Gay Harry Potter-05-6-Danny Jorrocks and the Stones of Power
by jerome1980
Summary: Gay Danny and the Gay Creeveys are searching for four stones predicted by an ancient prophecy. On the way, they encounter more Gay boys from Hogwarts to Muggle England to Diagon Alley to Russia, with a showdown in Somerset.


GAY HARRY POTTER-05-6-DANNY JORROCKS AND THE STONES OF POWER

_**Contents**_

1. _At Home with Colin_

2. _Home and Abroad with Danny_

3. _Danny and the Creeveys_

4. _Brixton Prison_

5. _Alexander Bell_

6. _Hogwarts in Summer_

7. _The Togetherness Project_

8. _Colin Has Two Days Out_

9. _Ancient Magic_

10. _A Meeting at Hogwarts_

11. _Good and Evil_

12. _Life at Novorossisk_

13. _A Wondrously Enhanced Togetherness_

—CHAPTER ONE — _At Home with Colin_

Colin Creevey awoke with the horn.

This was, of course, normal; but why was it accompanied by an extra-special dose of happiness?

He took soundings: he was in bed; someone's foot was pressing against his own; a girl's voice was shouting merrily.

Then he sat up quickly: he was _home_; he was with his brother, Dennis, in their brand new double bed; Geoff had already left his own bed, and presumably joined their sisters, who were running to and from the bathroom.

It was the first day of the holidays!

For a moment he considered getting rid of his erection with a little help from his brother; then he realised that there was something else that needed seeing to: he was hungry.

The night before they had all been allowed to stay up late, telling each other about the exciting things that had happened since Easter.

Now, judging by the sun, it was past ten o'clock.

Colin shook Dennis awake and said: "Happy Holidays, Den! Breakfast!"

Dennis stretched and got out of bed. His willy was as stiff as Colin's, though smaller: in the last few months Colin had reached-man-size.

"We didn't have time to talk about Alex," said Dennis as he was dressing, "Was it good?"

"Cracking good, Den!"

The previous day, some of the big-hearted Hogwarts gay boys had arranged a private compartment for Colin and Alexander Bell on the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross. Colin had joyfully deflowered his friend.

"Was it good for him too?" asked Dennis.

"Yeah; he can't quite get the _feeling_, but he was dead happy for me."

"That's good. He deserves it. Do you think he'll go all possessive like Lavender does?"

"No chance! He knows he'll always be important to me . . . like . . . what was that Latin that Danny used?"

"May retropedicarty?"

"No, that's 'Bugger me backwards' . . . I mean that thing with the stove."

"Oh, the Primus!"

"That's it, Den! Primus interpairs—first pair among equals."

"Lucky Alex: Primus intercourse _and_ Primus interpairs!" said Dennis, and the giggling boys left their bedroom.

X

Breakfast was a noisy and happy time, though hard work for Mrs Creevey: Colin and Dennis were happy with anything, as long as it was cooked, but the other four had different preferences for cereal, bread, toast and jam. Audrey, who was only four, changed her requirements every few days. Ten-year-old Joan had—Heaven be praised—moved on from her vegetarian phase.

As Mrs Creevey skivvied, her offspring chirruped, and her husband, who had breakfasted after coming in from his milk-round, sat at the table placidly smoking and marking up his horses in the _Daily_ _Mirror_.

At a moment when most mouths were full, Mr Creevey looked up: "First day, how about all eight of us go out for a treat this afternoon?"

There was unanimous approval. Then Colin said: "That's a point! Why aren't you three at school?"

"I phoned them in sick," said Mrs Creevey, "It's a happy day and, just this once, I thought we'd make the most of it."

Joan, Geoffrey and Caroline still went to Muggle schools, though the first two, at least, were definitely magical and would qualify for Hogwarts in the next few years.

Mr Creevey said: "What I thought was: it looks like a lovely day and we could take a picnic and go down to the boating lake."

"YEAH!"

X

Colin spent the morning playing with all his brothers and sisters. He admired Joan's paintings and they drew a joint picture of Audrey; he had a good dolls'-house session with Caroline; he had a game of cricket in the roof-garden with Geoffrey; he told Audrey some stories—mostly about fairies and witches.

They had a snack for lunch and, as soon as Mr Creevey had woken up from his morning nap, set off for the bus stop, Colin and Dennis carrying a huge picnic-hamper between them.

"Thank goodness I don't have to bother with that ruddy pram anymore!" said Mrs Creevey.

"Don't you go selling it yet!" said Mr Creevey.

"I suppose it'll be useful for the shopping when we're old and grey," said Mrs Creevey, and they both twinkled.

On the bus, Colin and Dennis sat next to each other, and as the bus was old and noisy were able to have a private conversation.

"Did you notice Geoff this morning, Col?" asked Dennis.

"What about him? He seemed happy and healthy."

"Colin, sometimes he was _rubbing_ himself!"

"Bloody hell! He's a bit young."

"He's nine. Same age as we started."

"I suppose so. I wonder if he gets the feelings like we did."

"Danny said that only two out of his fourteen eleven-year-olds had pre-pubescent orgasms, so we were lucky."

"And Geoff might be, if he's got that bit of our genes."

"Oh yeah, Col. . . . Colin?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think he found out for himself, or do you think he knows about us?"

"Of course not. We've never even _touched_ each other when there's a chance of anyone seeing. Mum and Dad have probably guessed—specially with the bed—but I don't think Geoffrey has."

"He might guess if he's getting feelings; and he might ask us to help."

"Let's think about that if it happens, Den."

At this moment the boy himself ran down the aisle and asked his brothers: "What are you two planning? Is it who does the rowing?"

"Yes, Geoff," said Colin.

X

At the park, they hired two boats: Colin took Geoffrey, and Dennis took Joan.

Everyone wanted to row, but within a quarter of an hour, everyone wanted _not_ to row; so it was without dissent that the landlubbers took over: Mr and Mrs Creevey rowing Caroline and Audrey respectively.

They swapped crews once more, and then it was time for tea.

Colin and Dennis would have liked to have engaged in nautical battles with missiles and splashing and ramming and boarding-parties, but the presence of their parents and the little ones had inhibited them.

The Creeveys—some of them red-faced and panting—had their tea on the grass, spreading two huge blankets to prevent stained or damp clothes, and to protect from the dreaded dog-shit—the last a constant menace in all Muggle areas—or Muggle-infested areas, as Malfoy would have had it; and, just this once, Colin had some sympathy for his viewpoint.

The park was quite crowded, and they had found a corner away from the various groups of ball-players.

The nearest group interested Colin greatly: eight happy-looking young people talking and sipping soft drinks—all of them sickly-sweet, and some of them fatuously described as _energy_ _drinks_.

Or not quite: there was one girl drinking bottled water. Danny Jorrocks would have mouthed off about this: the madness of paying for tapwater; and the madness squared, when you'd already borne this ridiculous cost, to splash out—so to speak—on bottled water.

Moving his attention from the drinks, Colin looked at the people. There were five boys and three girls, so if they were all coupled, two of them were gays. Colin amused himself by trying to identify the likeliest candidates. He wondered if Dennis was doing the same. He glanced at Dennis, who met his eye and subliminally signalled his interest.

Colin couldn't isolate any particular two: any of the five might be gay or straight or both. True, three of the boys stole an above-par number of glances at Colin, but, without being arrogant, Colin knew that he was a very beautiful boy and even some of the straightest of straights were refreshed by his beauty. On the other hand, the two boys who weren't glancing at him might be raving poofs who were worried about people noticing what they did with their eyes.

During tea, Colin stole a few more glances at the group and came to a verdict that they weren't four couples, but just eight individuals—students, probably—enjoying friendship and mutual university stuff.

He would never know; and that was a shame, as all the boys were attractive and two of them were real dishes—after recalibrating for age: they were around twenty, and therefore much too old to be _really_ attractive.

Colin hadn't reckoned on Audrey: the picnic had reached the sweet course and Mrs Creevey deputed her to offer biscuits from a big plastic container.

Audrey, with commendable graciousness, did the rounds of her family before proceeding to the next-door group.

There was amusement all round, but some embarrassment from the students: when you're a twenty-year-old Muggle, an unfamiliar social situation can hold terrors.

Mrs Creevey saw the hesitation, and called out: "Help yourselves my dears; and come back for seconds when you're ready!"

The students relaxed, and accepted some biscuits. Audrey told them her name and, before long, was chatting happily to the female component of the set.

The ice was broken, and Colin was on his feet: "Mum, let's offer them all our leftovers!"

Permission was given, and soon the six Creevey children were sitting a-mingle with the students, who had lost all inhibitions and were putting away the last few sandwiches together with things that weren't genuine leftovers: crisps, sausage rolls, etc.

Fourteen is too large a group for general conversation, so sub-groups formed.

Colin homed in on the sexiest-looking of the boys—and one who had earlier glanced at Colin a lot.

"I suppose you're students?" said Colin.

"Yeah, we're all second year Fine Arts," said the boy, "Last day of term tomorrow."

He had a foreign-looking face, rather like the Master—the _first_ Master, of course—a resemblance that was enhanced by the silly little goatee beard that had recently come into fashion.

"Have you been here all day?" asked Colin.

"No, we went to the pre-raf this morning."

Colin was interested: he had read Biggles and knew all about the Royal Air Force and its predecessor, the Royal Flying Corps.

"Not much to do with Fine Arts!" he said.

The boy was taken aback: "You mustn't be too harsh," he said, "Anyway we all wanted to go while we could."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it's been round the world, and it'll have left Brum by the time we're back for Michaelmas term."

Colin laughed uproariously: "You're having me on! A pre-1917 plane couldn't fly round the world!"

The boy looked at Colin as if he were a nutcase.

"Er . . . 1917?" he said.

"That's when the raf was formed, wasn't it?"

The boy looked bewildered. Then the penny dropped, and he laughed . . . and laughed . . . and laughed. Everyone looked to see what the joke was. The boy's eyes sparkled through his laughter.

"Oh, I'm sorry," spluttered the boy, "By pre-raf I meant the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition in the Art Gallery. Have you heard of the Pre-Raphaelites?"

"No."

The boy explained, and Colin was so interested that he said: "This sounds brilliant! I must see it. Is it open tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'll show you round if you like."

"It's the end of your term. Won't you be going home?"

"For a start, I'm a local boy from Worcester; and anyway, we're all staying on as we're going clubbing tomorrow night."

Colin understood now why these young people weren't paired off: he had seen enough TV documentaries to know that artists had a special talent for seduction once the booze and drugs had been broached.

"OK, then," he smiled, "I know the Art Gallery; we went there from school. Shall we meet there at twelve o'clock?"

"It's a date!"

"Oh, and my brother'll want to come too."

Just for a fraction of a second, the boy looked slightly less cheerful, but he perked up and said: "Excellent!"

They chatted for a bit until Mrs Creevey called time. The hamper was packed up and they said their goodbyes to the nice young people.

On the bus, Dennis told Colin: "I had two girls to myself and all the time they were looking at you."

"I didn't notice," said Colin.

X

Back home, Colin and Dennis were introduced to a new phenomenon: the video game. Submitting to peer-pressure, Geoffrey had begged his parents for the latest device.

Having mastered killing and car-racing games, Geoffrey lost interest—especially as, in competitions, he was so much better than his friends.

But now, there was a new challenge.

This evening, against his elder brothers, Geoffrey was still unbeatable, even though Colin and Dennis picked up the use of the controller very quickly.

The closest games were between Colin and Dennis, though no high skill was displayed—both boys were diverted by the fact that, whenever Geoff passed over his video controller, one of his hands went routinely down the front of his trousers.

Colin thought about this while Geoff was playing the winner (Dennis—just). The sight of his little brother fiddling himself had given Colin the horn. He loved Geoff, of course, but he had never thought of him in a sexual way. Perhaps that would change—especially as they were now sharing a bedroom.

Geoff and Dennis were having a car-race, and Colin was again amazed at Geoff's fast reactions. Idly, he reviewed the loop: from the TV to Geoff's eyes and into his brain; a bit of processing; signals to the muscles; movement of the muscles, and so the buttons.

Then his body tightened: for a moment he had seen clear air between a finger and the button it was ostensibly pressing: the buttons were functioning on their own.

Geoff had cut out the slowest bit of the loop: the body bit.

"Geoff, you're using magic!" he said.

Geoff hit the Pause and smiled at Colin: "I suppose it's magic, but it seems so natural."

"Merlin's beard, Geoff!" said Colin, "I know we've got a limited dispensation from the Ministry, but this is taking the piss!"

"I've been doing it for _ages_ and they haven't complained. That shows it's only low-level magic."

"But it's only for a trivial purpose, and it might count against us if something more serious came up."

Colin didn't mention that, if the dispensation were lost, Mrs Creevey would be faced with a nightmare laundry, involving crusted semen and shit-stains all over the place.

"Besides, it's cheating," said Dennis, "Specially if you do it with Muggles."

"That's another point," said Colin, "You're breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

"Only if they notice; and they won't," said Geoffrey.

"I picked it up almost as soon as I looked."

"You're a trained wizard; of course you noticed."

"Believe me: a sharp-eyed Muggle would notice too. You must promise never to do it again—and that means working hard to stop yourself doing it accidentally."

"I promise," said Geoff, "but it's no big deal."

"Right! Replay!" said Dennis, but even an honest Geoffrey proved a match for his big brothers.

X

They played until Mrs Creevey sent Geoffrey to bed; then the big boys watched TV and chatted to their parents.

At eleven they went to bed and found Geoffrey still awake.

"What we doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"You're going to school," said Colin.

"Oh! I could have another day sick."

"You'd be by yourself, anyway. Me and Den are going to see an exhibition."

"Is that with the boy you were talking to in the park?"

"Yeah."

"Is he going to exhibit himself to you?"

The three boys tittered, and Colin caught Dennis's eye. Sex—gay sex, thank goodness—was evidently occupying a big part of Geoffrey's mind these days.

"We might go and see Robert and Tom in the morning," said Dennis, "They don't have lectures until after lunch on Fridays."

"I want to meet Robert and Tom," said Geoffrey, "I've only seen them; never talked to them."

"Definitely not," said Colin, "I know they're reformed characters, but they're still not totally safe."

"I'd be safe with you two . . . and another day off school won't harm my education . . . and I'd like to see the exhibition."

"Geoff, does the phrase _Squalling_ _Brat_ mean anything to you?"

"I'm not a squalling brat! I'm _nine_! It's not fair!"

Colin and Dennis were in their pyjamas by now and shut Geoffrey up by kissing him goodnight and turning off the light.

They lay in bed, holding hands and waiting for Geoff to fall asleep before doing anything more romantic.

It was nice being in a double bed with plenty of room to wriggle about and manoeuvre.

When it had been decided that Geoffrey should move in with his brothers so as to give ten-year-old Joan a room of her own, Mr and Mrs Creevey had suggested space-saving bunk beds. However, Colin and Dennis had asked for a double bed on the basis that it would actually _create_ space by providing a big, flat, accessible play area during the day; besides they enjoyed sleeping together.

The nature of the boys' enjoyment did not worry their parents: as long as they were happy . . .

And Colin and Dennis _were_ happy: they lived surrounded by loving friends in a wonderful school, and by a loving family in a wonderful home. Dennis put it into words: "Bugger Voldemort!" he whispered.

They lay on their backs for a few minutes until Dennis, hearing Geoff's regular breathing, rolled on top of Colin and kissed him.

Colin held Dennis tight, and the kiss became more passionate, as the two tongues engaged.

They snogged wholeheartedly—All the gay boys thought it a horribly ugly word, but all the foreign alternatives proposed by Danny were equally ugly: _galocher_, _schmusen_, _tselovatsya i obnimatsya_. Even the romantic Italians could only manage _sbaciucchiarsi_!

Such analytic thoughts were at the back of Colin's mind as he probed the inside of Dennis's upper lip, and they receded altogether as he moved his hand south and slipped it inside Dennis's waistband.

He just had time to rejoice in the miraculous smoothness of boys' botties, when Dennis moved his hand too, brushing a palm against Colin's willy.

Colin was gripped by a colossal erotic fervour: he had to bum Dennis _now_!

Unfortunately, in the intensity of his rapture, he groaned loudly.

Geoff's voice came: "What are you doing?"

Dennis rolled off and whispered: "I think Colin's had a bad dream."

The light came on.

Geoffrey was sitting up in bed, looking at them.

Dennis also sat up, and they both looked at Colin, who was, of course, awoken by the light.

He also sat up: "What's happening?"

"You had a bad dream, Col," said Dennis.

"It's gone now," said Colin, "Get that light off!"

They settled down again, and Colin whispered: "I'll set my Wizard Alarm for one o'clock."

"Colin?" whispered Dennis.

"Yeah?"

"We went boating today."

"Yeah, it was good."

"And I didn't fall in!"

X

Too late they discovered that Wizard Alarms didn't work for Colin outside Hogwarts, so it was half past seven before they woke up and got dressed while modestly keeping their backs to Geoffrey so as to conceal their stiffies.

After breakfast, the kids went to school and Colin and Dennis set off for a leisurely walk to Robert and Tom's flat.

They talked about the Geoffrey problem.

"It's complicated three in a room, isn't it?" said Colin.

"Yeah; it's nice, but it's hell," said Dennis, "It's ruining our love-life. There must be _some_ charm."

"We talked about that Den: the Juvenile Charms don't work outside Hogwarts; we daren't use _Illaun!_ here 'cos it's leprechaun magic; Confunding's unethical. We'll just have to wait till we can Disillusion."

"Why don't we stop keeping it secret? He's obviously interested."

"We can do that when he's eleven. Danny says that's the age when sex-education should begin."

"He might start pressing us, Col; then he'd be starting at nine just like I did."

"Yeah, but I was only two years older than you, darling Den. We're four and six years older than Geoff."

"We'll have to take showers together, but it's not the same, is it?"

"No, and it wastes such a lot of time having to get wet just to dry ourselves."

"Never mind: Danny'll see us straight at Novorossisk."

"Ooh yeah! I wonder what the situation is with cute little Brian."

"And those twins. Just think, Col, Danny and Brian are _fathers_!"

They continued talking about this pleasant topic until they came to a corner shop, where they bought some tea, bread, sugar and milk—Robert and Tom were provided with money by the Muggle authorities plus a little from the Jorrocks funds, but they were very lazy and couldn't be bothered to go shopping, or even to go for free handouts from the Salvation Army.

It was just past ten o'clock when the brothers let themselves in (they had acquired a spare key after calling by appointment and ringing for an hour before the two occupants woke up.)

There was a mild frowsty smell, which Colin liked, but Dennis didn't.

The flat had one L-shaped room plus bathroom. It was called a _Studio_ _Apartment_.

There were two single beds. Tom's was untidy, but empty. Robert's was untidy and contained its sleeping occupant.

While Dennis pottered in the kitchen area, Colin went over and looked at the sleeping Robert. He was about twenty and had let his hair grow long, but it didn't obscure his pretty, intelligent-looking face.

Colin gently shook his shoulder and he became conscious.

"Awright, Colin!"

"Awright, Robert!"

"Awright, Robert!" came from Dennis.

Robert yawned, stretched and got out of bed. He was wearing white, slightly dirty jockey-shorts which bulged with an erection—but not dramatically, as Robert's penis was smaller than average. As he went into the bathroom for a pee, both the brothers had a good look at a small, rounded bottom.

He came back minus his erection and the three lads settled down to tea and toast.

All through their chat, the brothers admired Robert's incredibly smooth body. They knew from previous experience that Robert had a small wispiness above his penis; now they saw the even smaller tufts of hair in his armpits. That was all. Robert looked much healthier than when they had met him ten months previously, but his skin was still a yellowish colour.

"Where's Tom?" asked Colin.

"Spent the night with his girlfriend," said Robert.

"Have _you_ got a girlfriend?"

"Not sure I want one."

"A boyfriend?"

"Same; I think I'm more gay than straight, but I got a total all-clear from the hospital and I've sort of been put off by maybe spoiling it."

"Punters?"

"Neither of us can be arsed."

"What do you do for sex, then?"

"Wanking; and sometimes Tom's girlfriend lets me shag her."

"Does Tom know?"

"Yeah; I wouldn't blag him; but he won't do threesomes."

Colin thought of the circumstances: two devoted friends who had saved each other's lives before Danny Jorrocks had saved them on a more permanent basis; but only one man wanted sex with the other; and the other wouldn't allow sexual contact, even in the diluted form of a threesome. Still, at least Robert got to share Tom's shagee. Colin shuddered at the mental image of the key parts of the woman.

Dennis interrupted his train of thought with: "_We_ do threesomes!"

"That's not fair, Den," said Colin, "We agreed we wouldn't take advantage of Robert and Tom feeling obligated. We all had a wank together, and that was it. Danny agreed."

"Well, we could do it again!" said Dennis. "In a circle, and lend hands!"

"OK!" said Robert, standing up and dropping his pants.

His willy couldn't have been much more than four inches in length, but it was very stiff, and dribbling pre-cum.

"I see you're pleased to see us!" laughed Colin, as he and his brother dropped their kit.

Robert's willy was one of those where the foreskin doesn't retract, and Colin was looking forward to learning the mechanics of its masturbation.

As the friends shuffled towards each other, with three stiffies pointing the way, the outside door slammed.

"Shit! That sounds like Tom!" said Robert, pulling his pants up and sitting down.

It was indeed Tom.

By the time he came into the flat, the three lads were sitting and chatting as demurely as three maiden aunts.

Cheerful hellos were spoken (with an _ow bist jockeys_ from Tom), and hands shaken.

"I come back for some shut-eye," said Tom, "We bin up all night bullin' an' watchin' telly. She wuz still yappin' wen I left."

"You've got taller since Easter," said Dennis. Tom was just nineteen, and might still have some growing in him.

Colin and Dennis exchanged meaningful glances: the previous year Danny Jorrocks had Polyjuiced a replica Tom, who had unloaded his semen over the Creeveys' faces, and subsequently given Dennis's bumhole a huge stretching with his huge willy. The brothers were each wondering if Tom had grown _down there_ as well.

"What's she doing?" asked Robert.

"Goin' to 'er gammer's" said Tom, "Oo's gunna make us a nice cuppa?"

Dennis went to oblige, while Robert and Tom started rolling cigarettes, and Colin monitored Tom's trousers too see what sort of bump he had there. Sadly their cut revealed nothing.

They talked about the men's college life, then Tom said: "Us be goin' down pub for dinner?"

"I'm afraid we can't," said Colin, "We're meeting a friend at the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition."

"What's that?" asked Robert.

"It's paintings."

"What sort of paintings?"

"We don't know. That's why we're going."

"Can we come too? It's something different."

"You've got college."

"It's Friday. They never do much on Fridays."

"OK. You coming Tom?"

"No. I'm gunna have a couple of hours," Tom, kicking off his trainers, and stretching out on his bed.

Colin resisted the urge to suggest that Tom stripped off so he could enjoy a proper sleep, and got to his feet.

X

The three lads set off to catch a bus to the city centre. Colin noticed that Dennis was hanging back slightly. He soon saw why: Robert's trackie-bottoms were loose, and had slipped down a little, taking his underpants with them. An enticing inch of bum-crack was visible when the wind caught his tee-shirt.

"I could shag that!" whispered Colin.

"I could shag anything!" whispered Dennis.

They reached the art gallery where they saw their friend from the park waiting.

Colin did the introductions: "This is my brother, Dennis; and this is our friend Robert Webb; this is . . . I don't know your name."

"Pete Bradley," smiled the lad, "And I don't know your name?"

"Colin Creevey. Are you going to give us a tour, as you're a fine arts student?"

Pete's hair and beard looked to have been seen to that morning by a competent hairdresser. He was in smart new clothes. Colin wondered if was for his benefit, or so that Pete could look extra-special later on in the nightclubs. He certainly attracted Colin, though fazed him a little as there was another Pete Bradley, a year ahead of Colin, who was a Ravenclaw Chaser.

Pete told them: "I think the best thing is for you to have a wander first, and then I'll tell you a little about the pictures."

They did that, and Colin liked the pictures: they were of distinctive-looking people, often dressed in historical clothes. Some of the pictures told a story, but they were rather flat compared to wizard pictures which moved about and spoke to you.

"Some of the women look like men," said Dennis.

"Yeah, with jaws like Biggles," said Colin.

They wandered around a bit more, until Dennis called over: "This woman _is_ a man!"

The other three came to look, and saw a picture labelled:

_Medea_

_Frederick Sandys_

"_And_ he's a wizard!" Dennis whispered in Colin's ear.

"Brewing a Dark potion, too!"

"That's definitely a woman," said Pete.

"With a name like Frederick Sandies?" said Dennis.

"Frederick Sands is the _painter_," said Pete.

"Then why did he just say it was Media? Why didn't he give it a title?"

"Medeea _is_ the title."

"No," said Colin, "Media's what all artists work in."

"It's MedEEa," said Pete, "She was an Asian princess who married Jason. What you see is her brewing a poison to kill the woman who Jason left her for."

"Did it work?" asked Dennis.

"Yes; and what's more, she also killed the children she'd had with Jason."

"At least she's got a good reason for looking square-jawed," said Colin.

They moved on.

Colin noticed that Pete spent a lot of time looking at him; and when he wasn't looking at Colin's face, he was focused on Robert's bottom.

They came to a new room, and an effeminate voice called out: _Ooh, you wait all morning for one and then four come at once!_

An equally effeminate voice said: _And two of them are from our other fraternity as well!_

Robert and Pete had heard nothing, so the brothers knew that there was a wizard picture here.

They found it half way along the wall.

To Muggle eyes, it was just a head-and-shoulders portrait of three pretty and girly youths. They were cuddling affectionately and, in accordance with Pre-Raphaelite tradition, were reasonably well-chinned.

But Dennis and Colin saw the live picture, with the three glamorous youths looking out the frame with curiosity.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Pete heard this and answered: "The two on the right are sleeping and dreaming. The one on the left is supposed to be an angel, watching over them."

The baby-doll redhead in the centre said: _That's right. The Angel of Earnestness!_

The auburn youth on the right said, in a more working-class accent: _Angel! His furrow's been ploughed as often as the night sky._

"It's called _The Sleepers and the One who Watcheth_," said Pete.

_And these two __**need**__ watching!_ said the angel.

_You've watched us often enough!_ said Ginge.

_And enjoyed it too, to be honest _said the angel. _Are you two from Hogwarts?_

"Yes," said Colin.

_I'd have you both if I was still there!_ said the worker.

_If you were there, we'd be there too_ said the angel.

_We'd have a wonderful time; five boys spending together_ said Ginge, _What are you called?_

"I'm Colin."

"I'm Dennis. We're brothers.

_Will you come and see us again sometimes? We live in Leamington._

"Yes, we will. See yer for now," said Colin.

"I know why they only showed your top bits!" said Dennis, "See yer in Leamington!"

"How on earth did you know this picture came from Leamington?" asked Pete.

"It was on the telly," said Colin before Dennis could say something incriminating.

X

Pete Bradley proved a knowledgeable and interesting guide, taking his three companions back round the paintings and explaining them from artistic, historical and sociological viewpoints.

When they visited _The Sleepers and the One who Watcheth_ again, the three camp youths diverted them with a song:

_Colin and his brother_

_Have two delightful bums,_

_They sodomise each other,_

_And they sodomise their chums._

_They do it like a doggy,_

_They do it face-to-face_

_They're rogering at Hoggy,_

_They roger any place._

_Big prick! Come quick!_

_Soon begin to pump._

_If you're feeling happy you can_

_Stick it in my rump._

_Tight bum! Wants come!_

_Get your trousers down_

_Spurt it in my ringpiece_

_And wash away the brown._

_Colin and his Dennis_

_Are earnest as they come,_

_The thing they do to men is_

_A spending in the bum._

_Dennis and his Collie_

_They use the purple pole,_

_Every man's their molly_

_If he's got a nice brown hole._

_Big prick! Come quick!_

_Soon begin to pump._

_If you're feeling happy you can_

_Stick it in my rump._

_Tight bum! Wants come!_

_Get your trousers down_

_Spurt it in my ringpiece_

_And wash away the brown._

By the end of this, the brothers were doubled up with laughter.

"What's the joke?" asked Pete.

"It's a brother thing," explained Colin—the brothers' standard response to awkward queries.

So that Pete didn't feel left out, Colin accompanied his answer with a pat and a squeeze of Pete's bum. Under the thin trackie bottoms, it felt firm and rounded. Pete's eyes darted round in panic, as he checked to see if anyone had observed this outrage.

Satisfied, he smiled at Colin.

Yes, Pete was up for it in a big way, thought Colin, and got yet another inconvenient erection.

X

It was half past two and Pete suggested they pick up a sandwich and go to Pigeon Park.

Robert agreed, but before Colin could speak, Dennis piped up: "We can't; we've got to pick up our little brother from school."

"Yeah, we'd better go," said Colin, instantly supporting his brother.

Addresses and phone numbers were exchanged; hands were shaken; goodbyes were said; and in no time Colin and Dennis were striding towards the bus stops.

"What's going on, Den?" said Colin, "We might have ended up at Robert's place, and had some four-way fun if Tom was away seeing his girlfriend."

"Might; if; possibly," said Dennis, "I need your bum _now_, Col. Let's go to the woods in Sutton Park; there's sure to a spot. I thought of it when those naughty boys sang about _They roger any place_."

"Yeah, there's clumps of azalea. Let's go!"

They took the bus to the park, where they found, after some searching, a suitable spot, well-hidden and with a leafy floor that would make anyone's approach audible.

"Drop 'em," commanded Dennis, then sang: "_They do it like a doggy_."

Colin crouched on all fours, his naked bottom exposed.

Immediately, Dennis splayed his legs and lowered himself. Colin could feel Dennis's rock-hard little willy nudging its way into him.

Colin badly needed release; his balls must have been as full as they'd ever been because he started an orgasm almost as soon as Dennis started to roger him powerfully.

The brotherly stimulation of his ringpiece was too much: Colin's orgasm turned out to be massive: spurt after spurt; dribble after dribble.

Dennis was coming too, trying desperately to muffle his squeals of pleasure.

In his frenzy, Colin had buried his hands deeply into the leaf-mould and soil of the wood's floor. Now he felt something hard under his right hand. He dug it out, and shouted: "Look Den, it's like yours!"

It was a small, smooth pebble, not very significant in itself, but surfacing just a week after Dennis had fished out a similar object from the bed of the lake at Hogwarts, rather suspect for a coincidence.

"Wow!" said Dennis, "They're the same, except mine's red and yours is white. Do you think it _means_ anything?"

"Dunno. We'll put them together later. Oh, and Dennis: thank you for a lovely shag!"

"Oh, and Colin: thank you for a lovely shag!"

"We forgot to kiss."

"Don't tell Danny. Look out! Someone's coming! Get your keks up!"

They made themselves decent, and passed innocently by a family out for a walk.

X

Their first action after they had got home was to put their pebbles together to see if anything happened.

After being disappointed, they compared them.

They were probably not man-made, and were not even identical in shape or size. However, they were both similar to sugared almonds, or tiny thin rugby balls.

Geoffrey was fascinated: "Did you get the white one at the Pre-Raphaelites?"

"No," said Colin, "We got it at Sutton Park."

"What were you doing at Sutton Park?"

"We went to have a look-around after the Pre-Raphaelites."

"You could've taken me."

"We'll take you somewhere tomorrow."

"Where?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere nice."

"Well, have a think; but now it's time for tea."

They went to the kitchen and had a boisterous family tea followed by an evening of boisterous family games.

When it was Geoff's bedtime, Colin and Dennis went to see him to bed.

They were all still thinking about the pebbles. They all agreed that there must be _some_ significance in their sudden appearance, but couldn't think of an explanation.

"Can you remember what you were dreaming about when you said 'It's a pebble,'? " Colin asked Dennis.

"No, the only recent dream I can remember was when you and I were . . . er . . . wrestling in Snape's class," said Dennis.

Geoff was in bed and his brothers were lounging on either side of him.

Suddenly, Geoff had an idea, and sat upright saying: "I know what they are!"

"What?" said Colin.

"They're a pair of bollocks!"

"They're a bit flat and a bit small," said Colin.

"They're the same size as mine! Look!" said Geoff, jumping out of bed and lowering his pyjamas.

He took a pebble from the shelf and, squeezing himself so that one ball was projecting, laid the pebble against it. It was indeed a close match, though Colin's attention was mainly on Geoff's rapidly-burgeoning erection.

"Perhaps _you're_ meant to have the pebbles, Geoff," said Dennis.

"Or Keith Gillespie," said Geoff, "He hasn't got bollocks of his own; they haven't dropped yet."

Keith Gillespie was Geoff's Muggle friend at school.

Colin laughed: "There'd be no room in his sack when his balls _did_ drop!" he said.

"Will his balls be big when they drop?" asked Geoff.

"I don't know," said Colin.

"How big are your balls, Col?"

"You know how big they are Geoff; you've seen them a million times."

"Yeah, but not close up. Show me now, Col."

"No it's ages past your bedtime. Mum'd have kittens if she knew you were romping about instead of going to sleep listening to a story."

"Go on, Col; just a quick look and then I promise I'll go straight to sleep."

Colin looked at Dennis, who said: "Go on, Col, it's all brothers together.

Colin knew that this was the magic moment when Geoff entered the adult world of sexual awareness.

He lowered his clothes and isolated a single bollock as Geoff had. He took the pebble from Geoff, who was now boasting an unabashed erection, and laid it against himself while trying to keep his penis limp.

"Coo, you're balls are _much_ bigger Col!" said Geoff, "And your willy's big: it's as big as my stiff one. How big does it get when it's stiff, Col?"

"Just a couple of yards, Geoff; now bed!"

"Let me just have a quick look at yours, Den, and then I'll really go to bed."

"Tomorrow," said Dennis.

Geoff giggled: "Is it because you've gone stiff? I saw the lump before you pulled your leg up. "

Dennis giggled too: "We don't all go flashing our stiffies around in public!"

"It's not public!" said Geoff, "It's _brothers_! I miss having brothers when you're at Hogwarts; and you have each other; and I only want to look at Dennis, Col. Tell him!"

Colin felt the truth and pathos in this, and hugged Geoff tightly, telling him: "You'll always, always, always be our brother, even when we're miles apart."

He kissed Geoff's forehead and released him, by which time Dennis's naughty bits were presented for Geoff's inspection.

Geoff was impressed: "Wow, Dennis! It's _huge_!"

Colin suppressed a chuckle: Dennis's five inch stiffie was indeed _huge_ compared to Geoff's four inches. He suspected that Geoff himself was huge compared to most other nine-year-olds.

"Do you ever do this, Dennis?" asked Geoff, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the purple glans.

"Every boy does that, Geoff," said Colin, "But it's private; they don't have their hands down their trousers all the time like you. You'll have to stop doing it in public: it's embarrassing for Mum and our sisters."

"I never thought of that; but it's so nice, Col, isn't it? Let's all do it together."

"Definitely time for bed," said Colin, feeling that they'd let Geoff go far enough for one night.

He and Dennis bundled Geoff back into bed and Colin, with an arm around his little brother, and with Dennis curled up like a cat at the foot of the bed, read an adventure story while Geoff discreetly rubbed himself.

Colin thought of the occasions when he had lain with Alexander Bell, reading him a story in the first-years' dormitory. He had groped Alexander. He wondered if he would ever grope Geoffrey. Not for a few years, anyway.

Geoff was soon asleep, having dropped off mid-story and mid-rub, and an hour later, Colin and Dennis were also out of it, but Colin woke up in the middle of the night.

He realised that, in his sleep, he must have rolled on top of Dennis, waking them both up.

He moved away from Dennis, who whispered: "Colin?"

"Hi, Dennikins."

"Fancy going face-down, arse-up?"

Colin fancied it, and for the second time that day, Dennis rogered him, falling asleep again as soon as he had climaxed.

Colin soon drifted towards sleep himself.

_There's nothing so beautiful as sleeping with a loved one!_ he thought, and _There's nothing so enjoyable as bumming!_

—CHAPTER TWO — _Home and Abroad with Danny_

At that moment, more than two thousand miles to the east, bumming was on Danny Jorrocks' mind as well.

His Wizard Alarm woke him at five to seven, as he lay with his lover, Brian Hudson's, arm around him.

He rejoiced in the happiness of his life. All that was needed to complete it was for the old Russian wizard, Gully, to rescue the remaining gay boys from Butyrka—oh, and for Voldemort to be wiped out.

In the meantime, his willy was like concrete as he waited for a good seeing-to.

At seven o'clock, to the second, the door opened and Ilya came in.

It was his turn to perform what Nicolai had called _Danny's_ _Kick-start_.

This had been conceived on the third evening after the boys' arrival at Yorosk.

In the course of a long sex-education session, Danny had mentioned that a French wizard, otherwise straight, had been buggered every morning by his manservant.

Nick suggested that Danny should make arrangements with Smerdyakov, the Yorosk concierge.

After the amusement had died away, Pyotr had said _Let's do it for Danny!_ and it was agreed that the four boys who could shoot man-size cums would take it in turns to service him.

So, Nicolai, Yuri, Sergei and Ilya had set up a rota, and as well as the pleasure of starting the day with some high-grade sex, Danny found that the mildly laxative action of semen allowed him to get his morning poo out the way after breakfast, leaving his bumhole in optimal condition for any oral, digital, or penile stimulation it might receive over the next twenty-four hours.

Ilya was, at sixteen, nearly the oldest of the fifteen boys. He was also the biggest comer and had the fattest penis, so Danny would be getting the full Monty today.

Ilya was naked, and dropped the clothes he was carrying onto the floor.

"Morning, Danny," he said, and walked to the bed showing he was ready for action, his beefy six inches with its upward curve—a good asset for bumming—rising from his big bush of dark pubic hair.

Danny gently freed himself of Brian, and lay on his back.

Ilya grabbed Danny's ankles and lifted them up.

"What yer doing, Ilya?" said Danny.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot!" said Ilya, dropping Danny's legs, lying on top of him, and pressing his lips against Danny's.

Danny was undoubtedly the boys' leader, but he was rarely prescriptive, one of his few unnegotiable rules being that sex should always be preceded by a kiss-and-cuddle session.

Accordingly, they kissed tenderly for a minute or so, with Danny clinging to Ilya and stroking his back and bottom.

After the six weeks that the Butyrka boys had been at Yorosk, most of them still retained a boyish boniness, but Ilya's body felt as though it had gained a layer of flab. He would probably grow up to be a chubby, snuggly boy. His skin felt greasy due to a combination of night-sweating, sexual excitement, and the six days that had passed since the last Bath Night—the last factor also contributing to a deliciously overpowering underarm odour.

Simultaneously, the two boys twitched with sexual excitement and Ilya slid down to raise Danny's legs again.

At around this time, Dennis was sliding effortlessly into Colin, but it took quite a bit of work for Ilya to fiddle and cram his way into Danny's bumhole.

At last Ilya's penis was pushed all the way up, and as Ilya started his forceful buffeting, Danny experienced the familiar, wonderful sensations as sharp pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and then to a mounting sexual bliss.

He clasped Ilya's back with one hand, and squeezed his bum with the other.

As Ilya pounded harder, his skin felt even more slippery, and Danny breathed in a welcome waft of fresh sweat.

He licked Ilya's ear, whispering: "Go on, sweet Ilyusha!" and his finger pressed against Ilya's clammy bumhole.

Ilya started grunting: "Ugh! . . . Ugh! . . . Ugh!"

The bed was pounding: _Bang! . . . Bang! . . . Bang!_

Brian did not wake up, but his sleep lightened enough for one of his hands to join Danny's hand in fondling Ilya's bum.

Ilya was coming now, pumping his seed—no doubt his usual prodigious spurts—deep inside Danny. He let off a loud, morning fart.

Danny was coming too: a long, oozey, slimey emission, trickling onto his belly.

They lay still, kissing gently.

"Thank you, dearest Ilyusha!" whispered Danny.

"Thank you as well, dearest Danny!"

They embraced for a couple of minutes, but time was moving on, and at last Ilya withdrew, causing Danny to let off his own fart, spraying dirty semen about.

Ilya, with five years of schooling behind him, had no difficulty in deploying his wand to clean things up.

Danny reached for his own wand, and levitated the twins by half an inch before allowing them to drop down onto their bed.

They were awake at once, and leapt onto their fathers' bed. Pavel kissed Danny all over, and Boris did the same for Brian. "Love you!" he said, as he woke up. The twins then reversed their positions, and after their dads had been thoroughly processed, turned their attentions to Ilyusha, who giggled and spluttered with delight.

At Danny's suggestion, games were eventually terminated, clothes were donned and the five chirpy boys left the bedroom, aiming for a pee and a toothbrush.

X

As usual, Ilya sat with his four special boys at breakfast. These four had a lot of previous history, but accepted Ilya as one of their own.

Pyotr was fourteen and his brother, Alexei, scarcely thirteen months younger. They had bright yellow hair, with Slavic features and were closer than most brothers: they loved each other as much as the Creeveys, and since being reunited after Danny had rescued Pyotr from prison, had started an intense sexual relationship—sealed by their delight in learning that they were wizards.

While imprisoned, Pyotr had met Nicolai, a wizard with four years of training behind him, though Pyotr hadn't known this at the time. The two boys had taken to each other and had coupled two or three times a day.

Nicolai was a fifteen-year-old redhead. He had spent those four years at the Butyrka Dark wizard school with Yuri. They had each known that they were gay, and had each fancied each other, but friendships between individuals were banned and the two boys suffered spiritual loneliness.

Now, they were making up for lost time, and as often as not, their flame-topped and straw-topped heads shared a pillow for the night.

"On Kick-start, Ilyusha?" said Pyotr.

"Yeah."

"Do any good?"

"I gave him a hundred poods!"

"You lucky bugger!" said Nick, "I only produce a trickle. Even Sergei's squirting more now, and he's a year younger than me."

"It's quality that counts, Nickolya," said Yuri.

"When did I ever complain?" said Pyotr.

"I just want to do the best for Danny," said Nick.

"We all do; and wanting's all we _have_ to do," said Yuri.

Danny had heard all this, and was, as ever, upset at what he saw as irrelevant hero-worship.

"Shut up, you lot!" he said, "There are fifteen special boys here, and we all must want to do the best for _everybody_. Now get on with your breakfast!"

The Jorrocks family had introduced the theory and practice of the Full English Breakfast to Yorosk, and the thirteen Russian boys had quickly become devotees.

The chatting, shouting and laughing boys sprayed bits of sausage and toast about them.

They loved their lessons, but Saturday was special: a leisurely breakfast, a day of active fun and games, an evening of entertainment, and then . . . Saturday night was for pairing.

Konstantin, a thirteen-year-old—fairly oriental, with straight, black hair—called over to Danny: "Pairs Night, Danny! I hope I get you again!"

"Don't say that, Kostya," said Danny, "You'll make whoever you _do_ get feel second best, and there are no second bests under this roof.

"Sorry, of course," said Konstantin, "I promise I'll give them as much love as I'd give you."

Konstantin was one of the two little boys who could get orgasms. His session with Danny a week earlier had been red-hot, with Konstantin reaching more intense peaks than Danny could count.

Pairs Night had risen from Danny's insistence that every boy at the school should love every other boy—maybe not equally, but to the extent that the boys should become as close a family as any in the world. Originally, there had been seven boys, and the idea was that every Saturday they would all gather together naked and spend the evening talking and playing games before sleeping in a close huddle all night.

The arrival of another eight boys weakened this scheme, so Danny had proposed, and the others had accepted, that the boys be paired off at random.

There were initial complications: the twins had never slept apart in their life, and were initially loath to forego the companionship and magical protection that togetherness gave them; but after hearing the other boys discussing the fun that they intended to have, the twins consented.

A second problem arose from Danny's belief that it was wrong for boys to be sexualised too early. He had proposed that the two youngest boys—nine-year-old Semyon and eleven-year-old Veniamin—be excluded.

The two babies, still shy and unsure, and not quick-thinking in debate, had accepted this initially, but before the second Pairs Night had asserted that they were only at Yorosk at all because they had decided and publicly averred that they were gay. They were therefore sexualised already.

Everyone accepted this argument, but there was uproar when their first draw took place and Semyon and Veniamin were put together. "Who can say that Fate has no sense of humour?" said Yuri.

Pairs Nights had been a tremendous success, both as a means of pleasure, and as a help in bonding: boys who didn't strongly associate with each other still remembered _their_ night.

On normal nights, the boys had various preferences for sleeping: Danny and Brian always slept in their own big bed, with the Tishchenko twins in their smaller bed at the foot; The Kalinov brothers were also inseparable.

Three of the boys, Semyon, Yefim and Sergei, with dreadful street experiences behind them, couldn't sleep alone.

On the other hand, six of the boys—including Nicolai and Yuri, despite their being a couple—found it difficult sleeping with anyone else: the least movement from their bedmates brought them to alert wakefulness. Perhaps time and a happier life would change this—Pairs Nights should help.

When Pairs Nights came, sleeping together was a given, and everyone tried hard to make things work out.

The mechanics were simple and enjoyable: names were selected at random, and seven pairs were created. The selection was slow to allow time for those still unselected to speculate on the possibilities.

The fifteenth boy was allocated to one of the pairs, also chosen at random, and the resulting threesome allowed to take over Danny and Brian's bed as being the largest of all the beds.

What actually _happened_ in bed was up to the occupants: at the very least, there was snuggling and cuddling; but these were consciously gay teenagers and hormones usually took over, to some extent at least.

Previously, some of the boys had never even touched another boy intimately, and to them Pairs Night became almost a sacrament.

X

After breakfast, they went outside for some exercise.

Nine of the boys liked Quidditch, and made straight for the broom-cupboard.

There were formal flying and Quidditch lessons from Smerdyakov and Brian through the week, but this was something special: a time for pure fun.

Danny and five other boys weren't all that keen on flying, and preferred to kick a football around.

Football is much more tiring than Quidditch, and despite an intermediate ten-minute lounge with mugs of arctic cranberry juice, they were tired by half past ten, and rested for a few minutes before goig for a gentle walk through the magic fields and forests which surrounded the castle.

Boris and Pavel walked hand-in-hand with their father; Ivan, Sergei and Ilya walked sometimes separately, and sometimes with an arm draped around a shoulder or waist.

They took delight in the tiny fairies, flying from leaf to bud to flower, collecting dew and nectar to take back to their king and queen.

At one point, they passed a deep crack in a rock, from which crawled a dwarf.

He was about three feet six inches in height with a stocky build and a gnarled, bearded face.

"What-ho, young wizards!" he called, "What brings you to our neighbourhood?"

"We've just come for a walk," said Danny.

The dwarf laughed—a surprisingly bass laugh from such a short person—and said: "A walk is it? You're Master Daniel, and we saw you having a walk with they pretty brothers last year."

"We knew you'd seen us," said Danny "but we didn't mind as Dad always drives a hard bargain for the metals you mine."

"No, no, young wizard, Mr Jorrocks treats us fair and square. Fair and square, I say. I see you've some new friends. Folks say there's a lot of new faces at the castle. Young wizards and not a sign of a witch. Do they like walking the same as these pretty brothers, though they're none of them pretty themselves?"

"Bollocks!" said Danny, "They're _very_ pretty, and, yes, they like walking and they don't want anything to do with witches."

The dwarf laughed again: "Is it hotty-botty today? I'll get my friends."

Danny laughed as well: "No, it's not, but the two pretty brothers will be here later in the summer and we'll do some walking for you. Mr Lubrut, isn't it?"

"Yes, Master Daniel. Will you stay and have some turnip beer?"

"We have to get back to our lessons, but thanks all the same!"

"Good day to you then, Master Daniel!"

"Good day to you, Mr Lubrut!"

The others said goodbye, and the six boys set off.

"Was that Saint Nicholas?" asked Sergei.

"No," laughed Danny, "Even though he went _Ho, ho, ho!_"

Sergei was quite a simple soul, but he had some powerful wizarding capabilities. He was blond and bony-faced and had just turned fifteen. He had given Danny many Kick-starts, but it was not until Danny had drawn him at a Pairs Night that he discovered just how surprisingly well his little four-incher could spurt.

At the other end of the penis scale was Ivan, so it was not surprising that, when they stopped for a group pee, all eyes were on him. He was a big, sunny, brown-haired boy, just fourteen and a half, who by his own account, had started a growth-spurt six months previously—a spurt which was still continuing.

"Show us your stiffie, Van!" shouted Ilya, and the other lads backed his request.

The well-disposed Ivan was willing to oblige, and started to wiggle himself. He was assisted by Sergei and was soon displaying six and a half magnificent inches of creamy, ramrod-straight willy.

"Hands off!" said Danny, warningly, "Keep it for tonight."

They all obeyed, and restricted themselves to looking, though there were six erections in the wood at that time.

They were still enjoying the wondrous sight when an owl zoomed silently through the air and landed on Danny's shoulder.

He recognised it as his mother's personal owl.

Danny was slightly worried as Mrs Jorrocks had spent the previous weekend at Yorosk. He cheered himself with the thought that it was probably just something about haircuts.

He opened the message and read:

_Darling Daniel_

_Kryuchkov has broken free and Gully has gone missing._

_Please get on the radio-telephone._

_Don't forget to put a sweater on after you've been playing football._

_Your loving Mother XX_

This was bad news: Danny had got Kryuchkov locked up in a Russian Muggle prison, and Gully was one of the few people who knew that. If Kryuchkov had caught Gully, then he could probably get the info out of him, and that would compromise Mr Jorrocks who, as an international businessman, had promoted a neutral public image regarding the current wizard war.

On the other hand, Gully was a top-quality wizard and might have had time to lose the risky memories before being kidnapped.

But there again, if Gully were really such a top-quality wizard, how had he allowed himself to be captured?

"No reply," he told the owl; and "I've got to call my mother," to his friends.

Ivan tucked his beautiful penis away, and the boys set off towards the castle.

They were nearly there when a huge eagle owl landed at Danny's feet.

It was a Jorrocks corporate owl.

He read:

_**Received at Moscow 27/VI/96**_

_Dear Danny,_

_A man describing himself as "Someone who has just done thirty-seven stirrings" has appeared in the UK asking for you._

_From the man with the tie-pin; contact through thief._

This was really weird.

The message was from Kingsley Shacklebolt. Gully had turned up in the UK. Danny had to make contact through Mundungus Fletcher.

"No reply," he told the owl; and "I've got to run; Yuri's in charge tonight; he's the oldest," to his friends.

"By ten days," said Ilya.

He ran as fast as he could, and found Smerdyakov in the staff offices.

"Please set me up a Portkey to Moscow, Mr Smerdyakov," he said before running to the telephone room, where he had the usual trouble with the antiquated Muggle system:

_Daniel Jorrocks to Moscow, over._

_Whirrrrrrrr._

_Daniel Jorrocks to Moscow, over._

_Whirrrrrrrr._

Eventually he got:

_Moscow Acknowledge, over_

_I'm porting to the office now; make sure Mrs Jorrocks there, over_

_Mrs Jorrocks already here, over_

_Porting now, over and out_

Thirty seconds later he was vomiting into a bucket inside the Moscow office of Jorrocks and Company.

X

Mr Bladzad phoned Mrs Jorrocks, who arrived full of brisk sympathy: "Hello, Daniel. That's right; let it all out!"

"Urrrgh! Hello, Mum."

When Danny had recovered somewhat, Mrs Jorrocks said: "Oh, Daniel! It's serious about Gully. I've phoned your father. He's holed up in Africa with Professor Wolland."

"It's OK, Mum; that message from London was to say that Gully's safe in the UK and wants to see me."

"Daniel, I don't think you should go to London. I think the three of us should hide in Yorosk until things have quietened down."

"They won't quieten down by themselves, Mum. Whatever Gully's doing in the UK, it's something to do with Kryuchkov, and he needs my help."

"Well, promise me you'll be careful. And do try and see Trumpers if you can: you're hair's all over the place. And have a bath as soon as you can: you look dirty and your clothes are scruffy; buy some nice new ones. You look so smart in a collar and tie."

Fortified, by this sound advice, Danny took a Portkey to London, where he was met by an efficient nurse.

"Hello, Sister Buchanan," he gasped as she sat him down and administered a pill.

"Hello, Daniel."

"How's Gideon?"

"He loved his first year at Hogwarts, and he sends his respects."

"And the same to him, Sister."

Danny wondered what Sister Buchanan would think if she learnt that her son had sucked Danny off in a Hogwarts lavatory; quite a few other boys too, if rumours were to be believed,

After a few minutes, Danny felt better.

The reliable Bittles appeared and said: "I don't suppose you've had your luncheon, Master Daniel, and notwithstanding your recent travails, I've had a selection of sandwiches and juices put up in Conference Room One. I've also taken the liberty of placing a change of clothing there."

It was nine o'clock in London, but one o'clock Yorosk time. Suddenly Danny felt peckish.

"Thank you, Mr Bittles," he said, and went to wolf down some lunch, ignoring the clothes, before flooing to the Leaky Cauldron.

Waving to Tom the barman, he hurried out and entered the Alley.

He was already missing Brian and the other boys, but still felt a wave of pleasure at being back at the centre of British wizarding life.

He found Mundungus Fletcher's stall in its usual place.

"Morning Mr Fletcher."

"Mornin' Master Daniel. I wuz tol' not ter try an' sell yer anyfink, but ter send yer straight ter the Muggle Prime Minister's 'ouse."

"Where's that?"

" 'Ow sh'd I know? But any Muggle'll tell yer."

"OK. See yer."

"See yer. Got loadsa good stuff wen you got the time," called Dung, to Danny's retreating back.

Danny walked smartly back up the Alley. Kingsley had obviously impressed very strongly on Dung the need for urgency.

He was ruminating on the possibilities when he was suddenly assaulted by a multi-limbed monster.

The creature had grasped him tightly and was screaming in his ear: "DANNEE!"

It was the three Creevey brothers.

"Danny!" said Colin, "What are you doing here?"

"And why didn't you tell us?" said Dennis.

"Aren't we your brothers any more?"

"We saw you talking to Mr Fletcher."

"Is he your new brother?"

"Is it just for his dong?" giggled Dennis.

"Shut up, you chuffs!" said Danny, when he could get a word in, "I couldn't tell you 'cos I didn't know myself till an hour ago."

"Why?" asked Colin.

"I've been summoned by . . . people."

The brothers knew that Danny sometimes had to help in the fight against Voldemort, and that it was not safe for them to be given details.

Dennis changed the subject: "How long are you staying?"

"Don't know; I've got to go lads."

"Are you going to stay with us?"

"Of course, if I can. See yer."

Danny ran down the Alley and emerged from the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle Land.

He asked a traffic warden where the Prime Minister lived, and learned that it was Ten Downing Street.

He found the location by consulting a road atlas in a bookshop.

When he got to Downing Street, he found it railed off and guarded.

He Disillusioned in a doorway and walked up to the railings. There was magical protection present, but nothing, he thought, to prevent Apparating across the railings.

He turned and found himself beside a big policeman, outside the door of number ten.

He wondered, for a moment, if he should reveal himself and openly knock on the door. Then he realised how silly this would be. What should he do then?

As a first try, he grasped his wand and tapped on the door: _dah dit dit; dit dah dah dah_—Morse Code for DJ.

There was no reaction from the policeman—nor from inside the house for a couple of minutes.

Then the door opened and a tall, distinguished-looking man emerged.

"Just checking, Officer," he said, "Are you fellows expecting two from the Department for the Environment at four o'clock?"

"Yes, Sir," said the policeman, "We've got that."

Danny brushed past Kingsley, magicking a little nudge on the way.

Kingsley walked up a plushly-carpeted staircase, lined with portraits of men who reminded Danny of the Hogwarts headmasters he had seen in Professor Dumbledore's office.

They passed an open door, and a man, seeing Kingsley, said: "What's happening Shacklebolt? Did I see the door?"

"Just making sure that the police are fully briefed, Prime Minister," said Kingsley.

Danny looked with interest: so this was the Head Muggle. He seemed too bland to be head of anything, but at least he looked intelligent.

"Good," said the man, and retreated, muttering: "I wonder how the Southend wicket will play in this weird weather."

Kingsley led the way into a pristine room whose rich furnishings and fittings were dominated by a huge boat-shaped table, with three dozen or so chairs.

"May as well do things in style," he said, as he locked the door.

Danny made himself visible and said: "I'm not going to check your credentials, Kingsley, because if you're representing the Dark Side, you deserve to win."

"Same here!" said Kingsley, as they shook hands.

"What's it all about, then?" asked Danny.

"You tell me," said Kingsley.

He passed over a sheet of paper, saying: "This was received at a confidential address yesterday."

Danny Read:

_HM PRISON SERVICE_

_HMP BRIXTON VISITING ORDER_

_Prisoner Name Richard Arthur Johns_

_Visitors Adult Visitors Children_

_Miss Leanne Johns Markus Johns_

_Granddaughter 16/7/1971 Grandson 20/3/79_

_163 Uxbridge Rd 163 Uxbridge Rd_

"Means nothing to me," said Danny, "I don't know these people. Though I get the feeling I'm going to be impersonating little Markus some day soon."

"Try tomorrow," said Kingsley, "Turn it over."

Danny did so, and saw a blank expanse of frating green. Then he noticed that the pen filling in the form had been pressed very hard—no not that.

Is ash called for?" he asked.

"Well done," said Kingsley, "Lay it flat."

Kingsley waved his wand and produced a pile of dark-coloured fine ash on the document.

By wiggling it about, Danny was able to read:

_SEND DANNY JORROCKS IN_

_TELL HIM I'M__ SOMEONE WHO HAS JUST DONE_

_THIRTY SEVEN STIRRINGS_

"It's Gully," he said "There's only him me and two others know about the stirrings; and the other two have been at Yorosk with me for weeks."

"Gully's Adrian Gillooly, isn't he?" said Kingsley, "A dodgy Irish wizard."

"He's been a dodgy Russian wizard for fifty years."

"You don't think . . .?"

"Utterly against the Dark Side; but what's he doing in a Muggle prison, under a false name and without a wand?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," said Kingsley, "It's a bit late to get you in today."

"You're sure you can get me in tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we can't risk too much magic—we've got to keep it quiet from the Dark side as well as the straight Ministry people—some of whom are suspect anyway; but we can risk sorting the visiting arrangements and getting you some ID."

"What about the sister? She's got to be there as they won't let a seventeen-year-old in by himself—which reminds me: I've got to practice looking three years older."

"The sister's a problem: we're having difficulty in finding a girl who's competent and definitely no security risk."

"Tonks is perfect."

Kingsley shook his head: "Tonks has got problems."

"Polyjuice her, then—or some other twenty-four-year-old."

"Brilliant! Why do you always think of Polyjuice before me? I'd go myself but my Muggle master needs me. I'll organise someone suitable. We'll set the visit for two o'clock. Be at the McDonalds at Brixton by one o'clock. It's only a quarter of a mile from the prison. You'll meet someone who looks like Tonks and holds your ID and this document. They'll be with someone safe to hold your wands."

"We could Confund our way through a search."

Kingsley shook his head: "We want to do as little magic as possible; and it'd be silly taking a risk just to smuggle in wands you can't use."

"Fair comment," said Danny, "But I feel naked without one."

"You're quite used to being naked from what I hear."

"Guilty as charged!" laughed Danny, "I should be sent to Prison!"

X

Danny Apparated directly from Downing Street to his favourite spot near Diagon Alley.

He picked up a bottle of pumpkin juice from the Leaky Cauldron, and sipped it as he wandered down the Alley.

Now he was no longer in a hurry, he had time to have a proper look.

It was only six days since The_ Sunday Prophet_ had announced Voldemort's return, but the mood was already subdued and there were fewer people.

All the better for catching up with the Creeveys, he thought.

But first, he popped into Quality Quidditch Supplies. Oliver Wood was not there: probably a Saturday-afternoon match, he thought.

Then he tittered: Ollie, or rather Olivia, would have made a perfect Miss Leanne Johns.

He passed behind Mundungus, who was muttering to a witch inspecting blouses: "I gotta range of charms against Dark Magic yer won't git anyware else!"

The lady looked interested.

_Go it, Dung!_ he thought, _Make the most of it: Scumbag'll be gone soon!_

He reached Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes at half past ten, and found that, even here, business was much too quiet for a Saturday morning.

Verity, the short-haired blonde assistant was dealing with a middle-aged man, who seemed more interested in the witch than in the roll of talking toilet paper that she was trying to sell him.

George, or Fred, was talking earnestly to a young couple who, Danny guessed, were planning on livening up their wedding.

Fred, or George, though was doing nothing except monitor a few people who wanted to browse in peace. He saw Danny and came over, smiling broadly as they shook hands.

"Hi, Danny!"

"Hi . . ."

"It's Fred."

". . . Fred; great swamp!"

"Thanks. "We never got to see the turd, but it sounds brilliant."

Danny had conjured a huge, smelly, immoveable turd on Professor Umbridge's bed."

"How's business?"

"Been mega-superb since you were last in; dipped after Sunday's _Prophet_, but that's an opportunity for us. Adopt, adapt and improve!"

"You're not going to sell charms to the superstitious? I see Dung's already on that lark."

Fred tapped his nose and said: "Just you wait and see, little Danny. We're working on things until two o'clock every morning."

"Gonna show us round, Fred?"

"Yeah, of course!"

He turned and called out: "Just giving Danny the Grand Tour, Mr George."

George was telling the young couple: "So the couple on top of the cake could cut it up for you, and each slice would shout _Yes! Yes!_ when it was eaten," but he managed a wave and a wink for Danny.

They toured the front room, which dealt mainly with flashy, gaudy stuff—"Pocket money, impulse-buys, stocking-fillers in here," said Fred.

The back room was for more serious and expensive merchandise.

"I'm impressed, Fred," said Danny, "In a year or so, you might be thinking of the international market. If you do, talk to Dad: he can help you with agencies, publicity, cheap foreign labour, etc."

"And commission!" laughed Fred, "Not that we wouldn't get our money's worth, I'm sure; and we _will_ be knocking on Jorrocks and Company's door when the time is right."

"Oh, before I forget, Fred: Have you seen the Creeveys today?"

"Yes, all three were in. That little Geoffrey's a live wire! Colin and Dennis had to drag him out."

"Sounds unlikely."

"Well, their mother was worried about them coming here in these times, and she said it was for one hour only, and the big brothers made sure they kept to it. I think your friends are turning middle-aged, Danny."

Danny was touched: he was sure that his brothers' punctuality was due to a wish to be home and ready for Danny when and if he arrived.

He also recognised their discretion in not telling the twins that they had seen Danny—even little Geoffrey was security-conscious.

When Danny and Fred had seen everything in the showrooms, Danny asked to see the stockroom, which was reasonably orderly—Verity's work, Danny guessed.

While they were there, the witch herself popped in and out, and Danny disappointedly realised that the specialised conversation that he had hoped to have with Fred was not to be.

They went back to the front room, where custom was even more desultory.

A thought occurred to him: "What does Mrs Weasley think of it, Fred."

"She worries about You-Know-Who, and she doesn't think it's a proper job anyway, so she just pretends it's not happening."

"How can she do that when you're up until two o'clock in the morning making goodness knows how much noise?"

"Oh we work in our bedroom."

"But she still must hear—and smell, as like as not."

"I meant our bedroom here—upstairs."

"You've got a bedroom _here_! I thought I was getting a Grand Tour."

"You wouldn't want to see it; it's an absolute mess . . . Oh; perhaps you _do_ want to see it?"

"Of course I do! Lead on."

"Just showing Danny the upstairs, Mr George."

"Alright, Mr Fred; don't let him talk too much," smiled George.

Fred led Danny up a steep, narrow flight of stairs.

There was a tiny kitchen, a tiny bathroom, a tiny junk-room, and a slightly larger bedroom, with two single beds, a table and hundreds of items connected with the twins' imaginative creation of new wheezes.

_Absolute_ _mess_ was an understatement, but Danny wasn't bothered: he was only interested in one thing; he would try and restrain himself, though, as he wanted to save as much boy-juice as possible for the Creeveys.

Fred immediately dropped his underpants.

"Would you mind disrobing too, Fred?"

"Not at all, Danny," said Fred, removing his fashionable magenta robe, with its _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ logo.

Fred was fully erect: his chubby penis standing at forty-five degrees; the foreskin was fully retracted along the freckly shaft, the deep-purple dong bright in the morning sun.

Danny could practically see it throbbing to the beat of Fred's excited pulse.

Danny himself was very stiff.

He knelt down, and Fred moved to place his willy ready for action, but Danny turned him round, saying: "Not just yet, Fred. I've got some unfinished business with the Weasleys."

For the first time, he examined Fred's bum closely.

It was hunky like the rest of its owner. Danny fought back an intense lust to shag it.

There was a light spattering of pale fuzzy hairs which Danny could scarcely feel when he placed his hands on the cheeks, marvelling at their strong muscular tone when he gave them a squeeze.

He parted the cheeks, revealing a small nest of dark red hairs framing a circular, brown hole.

He pulled the cheeks further apart, and a teasing touch of purple appeared.

He moved his nose towards the hole and, about an inch away, got his first earthy whiff of Fred's version of Youth's most secret scent.

There was a humidity which Danny deduced came from the hairs around the hole, having previously been saturated in sweat, now giving off their moisture to the air.

He pressed his nose against the hole and inhaled deeply.

The scent was the scent of paradise. So similar to Adrian Pucey's and yet so unique to Fred.

He sniffed for a few more seconds and, when his nose had grown, alas, too used to the bum-scent, turned Fred round and smelt his willy.

It was an unwashed willy, cleaned only by its own natural oils, and with its own delicious odours. Some of the oils had turned to the white scum known as knob-cheese—a substance which he could feel on his tongue as he licked the purple tip before taking it into his mouth.

The anticipation of sex had brought Fred to fever-pitch and he gripped Danny's shoulders, moaning: "Please, Danny, _Now!_"

Danny took more of Fred into his mouth and started a powerful sucking, while he bobbed his head to and fro, working hard with his tongue.

Fred's excitement grew quickly, and soon he was shagging Danny's mouth with strong, fast jerks.

With a high-pitched moan, he released a big shot of cum into Danny's mouth; then another half-dozen before slowing his motions to a complete halt.

Danny had managed to swallow most of the cum, and mopped the overflow with his hankie.

He savoured the taste in his mouth. It was mellower than Adrian's and had nowhere near the strength of Dean's swimming-pool tang. There was a hint of asparagus-flavour to make it special.

Fred's panting had lessoned.

"Merlin's tits! I needed that!" he said, "Thanks, Danny."

"My pleasure!" said Danny, getting to his feet.

"Would you like me to . . .?"

"No, I'm saving it, thanks."

Fred pulled on his underpants and made to put on his robes.

"Wait a minute, Fred," he said, "One more thing."

He sniffed Fred's armpit; then the other; then a few times more.

His horn twitched as he thought of Ilyusha's odour: was it only that morning? And Colin's still to come. Yes, Colin's would be the best, but he was happy to add Fred to his nasal catalogue.

Downstairs, things were still quiet, so when Danny addressed George and informed him that Fred had forgotten to show him a couple of boxes, George volunteered to put matters right.

Thereafter it was an action replay, as the Muggles call it, the only major variation lying in the fact that George, having had a longer anticipation of sex, was awash with pre-cum.

When they went downstairs, Danny found time before leaving to give the twins a little pep-talk, telling them: "A wank a day is the minimum; there's always time for a wank; you may feel too stressed to wank, but a wank is the best way to reduce stress."

Danny was sure that, from now on, he would be able to identify which twin was which by smell alone . . . assuming they hadn't foxed him in the first place.

As he walked along Diagon Alley, he reflected, not for the first time, on the miracle of twinship.

Fred and George were typical heterosexual boys who had shown that they could be turned on by another boy.

Yet they lay, night after night, close to each other; horny, but without recourse to sex—their volumes of cum proved that fact.

There weren't even wanks—solitary, simultaneous or mutual.

They fancied Danny, so how could they _not_ fancy each other?

It could not be because they were repulsed: to each, the other was physically himself. You couldn't be repulsed by yourself.

He thought of his own twins, Boris and Pavel: too young to have strong sexual feelings, but happy to find release for their little-boy feelings with each other; almost as if they had a single body.

Had the Weasleys been like that? Had they played with each other, bummed each other, sucked each other?

And then, when puberty came, had they turned away from each other, remaining close in body, mind and soul, but having lost Nature's great coupling instinct?

Would the Tishchenkos go like that?

At present, they were unbelievably close—so close that probably they broke the rule that all the Yorosk boys had agreed to: that what happened on Pairs Nights should remain secret within each pair.

Danny giggled to himself as he remembered the screams and yells through the night; the lovebites and hand-holding in the morning. Some secrets were less secret than others.

Still giggling, he took the Floo to Jorrocks and Company to pick up some money and phone the Creeveys.

His call was answered immediately by the husky treble of a fifteen-year-old.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Col, darling. I'm catching the Floo now."

His heart burst with love knowing that Colin and Dennis would have sat by the phone for ever, even though it was just on an off-chance.

He landed at Cleveland tower in a shower of green sparks and into a paradise of happiness.

—CHAPTER THREE — _Danny and the Creeveys_

Mr Creevey was still sleeping, so Mrs Creevey bundled then out to the roof-garden.

By long custom, the boys and girls—initially one mass of togetherness— separated: the four boys and five girls (two visitors) occupying their own favourite corners.

"It's lovely here," said Colin, "but the sun was sort-of behind a mist in London."

"There were Dementors in the upper atmosphere, I think," said Danny.

"What's Dementors?" asked Geoffrey.

"Nasty spirit-creatures," said Danny, "But never mind them! Did you enjoy Diagon Alley, Geoff?"

"Yes. Specially the Weasley shop. But Mum said we could only stay an hour."

"I know; Fred and George told me. I think that was a good compromise: it looks as though lots of mums will be keeping their kids safe at home _all_ the time until the death eaters have gone.

"Today's Geoff's day," said Colin.

"It's not your birthday, Geoff, surely?" said Danny.

"No, it's 'cos we've got hols and Geoff's still got three weeks of school," said Colin.

"So if this is your day, Geoff, what do you want to do next?" asked Danny.

Geoffrey thought for a moment, and then said: "I want to meet Robert and Tom, but Colin says they're not safe."

Danny and Colin looked at each other. Danny knew what Colin had meant: could ex-drug addicts be trusted not to relapse? Could ex-rent boys be trusted not to sexualise Geoff? Could Robert and Tom have violent friends?

Dennis, worried, perhaps, mostly about possible violence, said: "We can protect him, Col."

Colin looked at Danny: "What do you think, Dan?"

"We could have lunch at the pub, Col. Safe and fun."

"Yes," said Colin, "There'll probably only be Robert: Tom'll be with his girlfriend; she doesn't work Saturdays."

"Let's go then!" said Dennis.

They cleared it with Mrs Creevey, walked into town, and took a bus to Aston.

On the way, they told Danny about their picnic at the boating lake; Also, without including the three naughty youths, the Pre-Raphaelites.

They walked to the flat, and let themselves in through the shared front door.

Music could be heard through Tom and Robert's front door.

"They're in and they're awake!" said Dennis.

They entered the flat, Colin leading the way along the short passage.

Colin took only two steps into the bedsitting room, and stopped.

The other boys piled up behind him.

Danny saw a beautiful sight: a firm, globular pair of buttocks was oscillating in the well-known, much-loved rumpy-pumpy action that Danny had so often used, and that had so often been used on himself.

It was an attractive bum, unknown to Danny, but the object of its thrusts was an old friend: Robert Webb was lying on the edge of the bed with his legs over the stranger's shoulders. His eyes were closed and he was making little humming noises. He was in an ecstasy of erotic excitement.

The older boys on their own would probably have tiptoed back down the corridor, leaving the lovers to finish their business.

Alternatively, they might have politely queued up and bummed Robert when their turn came.

Both options were precluded as Geoffrey came out with: "COO!"

The result was dramatic: the bummer gave out an _EEK!_ better than any of Dennis's, and leapt to his feet, resulting in another sound—one that was like a rather subdued champagne cork being pulled from a bottle; but this _POP!_ came from Robert's bumhole.

The stranger turned to see who had interrupted him.

He was displaying a stiffie of British Average Length, but when he saw the four boys looking at it, he cupped his hands over it and turned away, rummaging through his clothes.

Danny was amused, but at the same time felt for the unknown boy in his embarrassment.

He walked over to Robert with his hand outstretched: "Hi Robert; good to see you again."

Robert was not in the least bothered by the situation. When his lover had backed out, he had raised his legs to a self-sustainable height in the air, as though hoping for a resumption of anal stimulation.

Now, with his bumhole hoisted high, he shook Danny's hand, saying: "Hello saviour. Good to see you too. You've grown a lot."

Danny turned to the stranger.

"Hi!" he said.

The youth was in too much turmoil to answer, but Colin stepped in: "Danny, this is Pete Bradley, who took us round the Pre-Raphs. Pete, this is Danny Jorrocks, our adopted brother.

"How do you do, Pete?" said Danny, offering his hand.

"Er . . . how do you do?" said Pete, shaking hands as he stood in his underpants.

After they had shaken hands, Danny raised his own right hand to his nose.

"Where's this been, then?" he chuckled, sniffing deeply.

"Were they _Bumming_?" asked Geoffrey.

"Quiet, Geoff!" said Colin; then, turning to Robert: "Sorry, we interrupted you."

"My fault," said Robert, his breath passing over and round his penis, which had been limp and was now totally stiff, "I could've put the snib on."

"We came to take you to the pub," said Colin, "Would you like that, or shall we wait outside for you two to finish off?"

"Was that _Bumming_?" asked Geoffrey.

"Shut up, Geoff!" said Dennis, "Don't ask silly questions."

"It's not silly!" said Geoff.

"Well they weren't brushing their teeth, were they?" said Danny.

His humour was infectious, and everyone laughed except Pete, who remained red-faced while he put on his trainers.

"Come on then, let's go to the pub!" said Robert, rolling forward and standing up.

"I'd better be off," mumbled Pete.

There were shouts of protest.

"Robert's coming, so you're coming," said Danny, "And you can't say you haven't got time, and you can't say you're not Robert's friend and if you're Robert's friend, you're our friend—well, you were Colin and Dennis's friend already."

Robert was stretching the waistband of his undies to tuck his stiffie in. The smell of his bumhole was pervasive.

He said: "Yeah, come on Pete. It's a lovely day and these are genuine lads, so forget the little hiccup and chill out."

"You don't know _I'm_ genuine," said Geoffrey, "I might be an impostor."

"Oh, sorry, you three," said Colin, "This is my genuine little brother, Geoffrey. Geoff, meet Robert and Pete."

Geoff shook hand with the two lads.

After shaking hands with Pete, Geoff raised his own right hand to his nose.

"Where's this been, then?" he said, sniffing deeply, then "Urrrgh! It smells of Danny!"

Even Pete managed a wan smile at this.

X

While they waited for a bus, Geoff refused to forget the little hiccup.

"Do you like being bummed?" he asked Robert.

"Yeah, if it's with the right person."

"What's it like?"

"Geoffrey, for goodness sake leave Robert alone!" said Colin.

"He doesn't mind, do you Robert?" said Geoff.

"But _I_ mind, Geoff," said Colin, "There was a little accident, and now it's gone and forgotten."

"Do you remember _my_ little accident, Col?"

"You were only five, then, darling. Anyone can shit their pants when they're five."

"Yeah, but not when the school inspector's looking at the training teacher. She told Mum that she'd rather I'd stood on the desk and thrown paint-pots at her."

"They were both laughing, so I don't think it was really serious."

"You and Den never shitted their pants."

"I did," said Danny.

"How old were you then, Dan?" asked Geoffrey.

"Thirteen."

"That was last year!"

"Yeah, I was frightened by some bad men and I let a four-incher out into my underpants."

"What did you do?"

"I wiggled it down my leg, out my trackie bottoms and onto their carpet."

"Wow!" giggled Geoffrey.

"Then my tummy loosened," continued Danny, "I had to drop my pants and let out a great long snake onto the carpet."

Geoff laughed in delight, and said; "How did you wipe yourself?"

"I couldn't. I was in a right mess and had to go to Cleveland for a shower."

"Wet farts don't count, Geoff," said Dennis.

"Not little ones," said Geoff, "Colin says, if there's any doubt, you should release it very slowly so you can get to the lav if you have to."

The delightful topic of shit diverted Geoffrey so that he forgot about anal intercourse.

At the pub, they ordered only five meals, as Danny was still full of sandwiches and could survive with a little piracy.

Robert and Pete had ID and could drink lager; the others had pop and juice.

When they were settled in the beer garden, Danny said: "Tell me and Geoff about the Pre-Raphs."

This was a ruse: Danny had been told that Pete had never closed his mouth on the previous day; now he was sitting dumb and morose.

The ruse worked, and soon Pete was chirping away like an older Dennis.

Geoffrey soon lost interest in the paintings, and reverted to his own red-hot topic.

"Did the Pre-Raphaelites do bumming too, Pete?"

"I don't know," mumbled Pete.

"I bet they bummed their women," laughed Robert, "They seem to have had a good, healthy attitude to sex."

"Can you bum women?" asked Geoff, then answered his own question: "I suppose you can. Do you bum women too, Pete."

"No," said Pete.

"Have you bummed lots and lots of men?"

Pete was blushing again.

Colin stepped in: "That's personal, Geoff; and you must stop embarrassing Pete."

"Sorry, Col; sorry Pete. I promise not to embarrass you any more . . . Robert, "Have you been bummed by lots and lots of men?"

Before Colin could step in, Robert answered: "Probably about twenty; but they were spread over six years, so I haven't exactly been a cock-slut."

Dennis was intrigued now: "What's a cock-slut."

"Someone who cares nothing about people except to make use of their cock."

Danny thought of the autistic rent boy in the Victoria hotel.

"But they must care a _bit_ about them, even if they're just friends and not in love," continued Dennis.

"Most people do care—even if they've only just met," said Robert.

"Aye-aye!" thought Danny, thinking of the man who Robert had just met, "Colin may have done a love-match."

Geoff wasn't interested in caring and slutting; he went back to top-priority: "Does it hurt, Robert?"

"It can," said Robert. Then his eyes went dreamy: "But if it's done properly, it's only a small pain and it's utterly sweet and happy."

"Did Pete do it right? Do you always do it on your back? Were you doing it all night? Does the one who gets bummed take it in turns to be the bummer? Are some people arse-sluts?"

Geoff had fired a battery of questions, probably hoping to overwhelm Colin.

Colin glanced at Dennis and remained quiet. Geoffrey was thoroughly sexualised by now.

Robert explained that he and Pete had talked until midnight, when Robert had insisted that Pete went to meet his friends in a nightclub. Pete had come over in the morning, and kisses and cuddles had led to a passionate need to bum and be bummed.

Geoffrey picked up on the oral side: "What? Kisses like they do on the telly: all wet, squelchy kisses?"

"Yes," said Robert.

"Yuch!"

"It's not yuch, Geoff," said Dennis, "It's bloody good and the best way of showing friendliness."

"Even with two men?"

"Even with two anythings!"

"Doesn't his beard tickle, Robert?"

"Right, that's it!" said Colin, "You've done enough personal questions. You open your mouth once more and I'll tickle you."

"That wasn't about bumming; that was about kissing . . . Ooh! Geroff! It's not fair!"

The rest of the meal featured less chat about sex, though Geoffrey managed to get in: "Pete: when you die, will you leave your body to medical science?"

"Why should I do that?"

"Because of your _enormous_ dicky."

The other five laughed enormously.

Colin explained that Pete was the owner of an averaged-size willy.

"How big is yours when it's hard, Col?"

"It's like Den said: we don't all go flashing our stiffies around in public, but you'll probably see me and Den's now we're sharing a bedroom."

And Geoffrey had to settle for that.

Conversation drifted back to the Pre-Raphaelites.

Then Geoffrey suddenly sat bolt-upright.

"It's the Pre-Raphaelite _Brotherhood_!" he said, "Do brothers do wet kissing?"

This was dangerous territory.

"If they're brothers, it doesn't matter," said Colin, "None of these things matter.

"Why? It's still . . . not yuch, but you know . . ."

"Oh, Geoff," said Dennis, "I'm sure me and Col have pushed our tongue in sometimes when we've kissed you goodnight."

"I don't remember," said Geoffrey.

"See?" said Colin, "It doesn't mean a thing with brothers. We love each other anyway."

Geoffrey looked a bit unsure, but, as he loved Colin and Dennis intensely, knew that at least part of the answer was correct.

Danny could see the next question and pre-empted it: "And before you ask, Geoff, I'm sure there are _some_ brothers in the world who bum each other, but that doesn't matter either, and you mustn't ask about it—specially at school. It's a private matter and you must never ask Robert and Pete about it again."

This shut Geoffrey up, though his body contorted as he stopped himself asking his brothers whether they had ever bummed each other.

At the end of the meal, the four brothers, at Geoffrey's suggestion decided to go for a wander round the town.

Danny had a quiet word with Robert and Pete: "If you can take advice from a fourteen-year-old, I think you should go back to the flat, put the snib on, and make love together knowing that there are four little boys who really wish for your happiness."

"He gave them both a quick hug and whispered: "And four little stiffies that really enjoyed the sight that greeted us this morning."

After roaming around the shops and markets for an hour, the four brothers went back home for a game of Happy Families—not the familiar Muggle game, nor the ghoulish wizard game of Unhappy Families (_Mr Holesale-Bootcher, the Funeral Director_; _Mr Rasor-Vadge, the Procurer_), but a gentler version involving a Creevey brother and sister bringing up their family of dolls.

Mr and Mrs Creevey were not in the least bothered that Geoffrey preferred being Mummy.

X

The sleeping arrangements that evening gave rise to a lot of debate.

Mrs Creevey's plan was that Danny should top-and-tail with Colin and Dennis in their big bed.

The boys agreed, but later in the bedroom, Geoffrey reneged: "Danny come and sleep with me tonight."

"I'm used to sleeping with Colin and Dennis, and they're used to sleeping with me. We can sleep through each other's kicks. If I slept with you, I'd kick you out of bed in no time."

"I'll risk it."

"No, Geoff."

"You'd have more room"

"No I wouldn't."

Geoffrey ran for a tape measure.

He measured the beds and announced his calculation: "Dennis and Col's bed: fifty-four inches; three people, eighteen inches each; My bed, forty-two inches; two people, twenty-one inches each. My bed's sixteen point six recurring percent better!"

"It's top-and-tail, Geoff," said Danny, "and feet only need twelve inches. Besides, I'll probably sleep mainly crosswise, so I won't even be touching Colin and Dennis."

"It would be nice to go to sleep feeling your feet touching _me_."

"I wouldn't be there when you went to sleep; I'd be going to bed much later."

This was a lie: Danny was whacked, and ready for bed now.

"We could try _bumming_, Danny," was Geoffrey's next suggestion.

Colin leapt in with: "Geoffrey! You're too young even to think of such a thing!"

"But Danny said that with brothers it didn't matter; and Danny's our brother."

"He also said that you shouldn't ask about it."

"I'm not asking him _about_ it; I'm asking him to _do_ it. You and Dennis could do it too. It wouldn't matter."

"Definitely not!"

Then Geoffrey played his trump card: "It's meant to be _my_ day. It's not much to ask."

There was a moment's silence.

Then Danny said: "He's right, you know; alright, Geoff, we'll share a bed, but no bumming! And you can have a bonus too: I'm tired out, so I'll go to bed at the same time as you."

"Yes!"

Danny was disappointed: he had been dripping pre-cum all day, and badly needed some Creevey-bum. A discrete wank into his undies would have to do for now; then a communal shower in the morning for some serious action.

But first things first: he phoned his mother to let her know he was OK, and endure a discussion on hair.

They were watching TV later when Danny suddenly jerked. He had dropped off for a few seconds.

"You're ready for bed, Danny," said Mrs Creevey.

"Yeah, it's past midnight Russian time," said Danny, "I'll go now."

He got to his feet.

"Danny's top-and-tailing with me, Mum," said Geoffrey, proudly.

"That's nice, dear," said Mrs Creevey.

The boys went to their bedroom.

He was sleeping in his undies and Geoffrey noticed the wet patch. "You didn't shake when you had a pee, Danny," he laughed.

"That's just stuff that dribbles out of men's balls, Geoff," said Danny.

"Is it what gets women to have babies?"

"Sort of."

Danny got in at the foot of Geoffrey's bed.

Colin and Dennis kissed Danny goodnight, flicking their tongues into his mouth.

Danny knew that Geoffrey was going to put the tongue in to. He thought of compressing his lips, but decided to let it happen.

As expected, Geoffrey's tongue barged into his mouth, and Danny tickled it with his own tongue.

Geoffrey leapt back, giggling, and said: "That's funny! Do it again!"

Danny turned away and said: "Tired. Sweet dreams, darling brothers."

"Keep it warm!" said Dennis.

Danny heard Geoffrey asking Dennis what he meant; then nothing more: he was asleep.

X

Danny woke up in the night, thinking at first that he was at Yorosk with Brian.

But, Brian slept down the bed, with his head on, or next to Danny's chest; why was he now sleeping upside down, with his legs pressed against Danny's?

Then Danny orientated himself: these must be Geoff's legs. Geoff had one hand gently clutching Danny's foot.

Danny had not had a wash or a change of clothes for a week, and he was extremely pungent. If Geoff could put up with—perhaps even enjoy—Danny's current state, he must be well on the way towards an active gayness.

Danny was smiling with pleasure at Geoff's development when he became aware of a wetness in the middle of the bed.

He thought at first that he or Geoff had peed themselves—at least it wasn't the dreaded self-shitting.

Then he realised the bed was awash with cum.

His undies were pulled down to his thighs: not Danny's style, and not the older Creeveys' style, so there could be only one conclusion: Geoffrey had wanked him off in his sleep.

At first he was slightly annoyed—at missing the pleasure and at Geoff possibly learning too much too soon.

Then he thought that this was the best possible thing that could have happened: sex-curious Geoff had been able to learn the fundaments of male anatomy without the need to solicit participation from his brothers. He had been able to learn in his own time, and in his own way.

Danny imagined Geoff groping in the dark to find the wet bulge in Danny's underpants; the pulling down of the pants; the feel of the stiff willy—only a little smaller than Pete's, and with a soaking, sticky tip; the rubbing of it the way that Geoff rubbed himself; and finally, the astonishing flood of a different, exciting sort of fluid.

The smell of cum would have hit Geoff's nose immediately. He would have smelt his hand. Had he licked it?

Danny remembered his first encounter with semen: he had wanked off Patrick Gillies in a lavatory cubicle at Hogwarts. Afterwards his mind had been bursting with wonder, joy, and the dazzling prospect of things to come.

Feeling happy for Geoff, he pulled his pants up and settled back to sleep.

Then he was suddenly alert again: had Geoff bummed him, or had he reckoned that the risk of waking Danny, or making him shit himself was too great?

His bumhole felt unmolested, though, and he decided that Geoff had probably been satisfied with just the one amazing experience that night.

He reached out and cradled Geoffrey's foot in his hand.

He was asleep again.

X

There was a strange beeping noise.

With the acute reflexes of a master-wizard, Danny was wide-awake.

He heard an urgent whisper: "Col! Col!"

Colin had set his Muggle wristwatch to waken him.

It was still dark

The beeps stopped and Danny heard the rustling of bedclothes.

"I'm coming over," he whispered.

There was a different sort of rustling which Danny correctly diagnosed as two pairs of pyjamas being removed.

He crept slowly out of bed, discarded his underpants, and crept over to the other bed, his willy as stiff as it had ever been.

Groping in the dark, he found his brothers standing up.

They engaged in a three-way cuddle, hands on each other's bums.

Then Danny and Colin started a passionate snog while Dennis slipped down and pressed his face into Danny's bum.

He felt Colin's flattened willy pressing against his stomach, and Dennis's tongue probing his bumhole.

Colin moved his hand round to feel Danny's willy.

"Danny, you had a wank!" he whispered.

Dennis moved his hand round to the front, and said: "It's soaking."

He moved his hand away and inserted a sticky finger into Danny's bumhole. Then, giving a little groan of lust, he pushed Danny away and onto the bed.

In no time he had arranged Danny into the same position as Robert's, and plunged his penis hard inside Danny's anus.

He was immediately driving into Danny with the firm, battering thumps that Danny remembered so well.

After a day of titillation with just one unconscious release, Dennis's shagging was enough to propel Danny into a quick orgasm.

He was snogging Colin energetically, and as his semen gushed, he pushed his tongue as far as he could into Colin's mouth.

Colin moved back, muttering: "Yeah! Now!"

Then Colin's penis was nudging Danny's lips.

Danny opened wide, allowing Colin to push inside, then sucked hard, working with his tongue along the sensitive underside.

Colin had plainly been going short, as an immediate spurt of cum hit the roof of Danny's mouth, followed by more big spurts.

More and more spurts came: _He's a fifteen-year-old sexual monster!_ thought Danny.

As Danny choked a little, Dennis's pounding reached a climax, and after a last high-speed burst, and some muted squeaks, he stopped moving.

It had been a hurried, clumsy sort of love-making, but the brothers didn't mind in the least.

Panting, they regrouped, with the two bigger boys lying face-up, each with an arm around the other's shoulder, and Dennis lying face-down on top of them. They were easily able to converse in whispers.

"Danny, it's so good doing that with you again!" said Dennis, "And with you, Colin!"

"My lovely Creeveys!" said Danny.

"I've got something to tell you Danny. Can you guess?"

"You're not going to tell me you can squirt?"

"Yes! Only clear stuff, though."

"I've got some of you inside me, little Dennikins."

"And a lot of me!" laughed Colin, "It's been a nightmare. I love Geoff being in with us but, Danny, I went without for _twenty-four_ _hours_!"

"That's a long time for a big boy, Col," said Danny, "And you _are_ a big boy, brother: it's more than _six inches_! And _thick_! You must be well stretched, Den!"

"I love it," said Den, "I might go for Wayne Hopkins next term."

"Steady on, Den," laughed Colin, "There's only two boys ever managed that! Anyway, Danny, you're growing fast, aren't you?"

"Vital Statistics five foot, three; five and a half inches," said Danny.

"Big enough to come gallons," said Dennis.

"Yeah, you should have saved it for us," said Colin, "Dennis _did_ say to keep it warm."

"Sorry, I didn't think," said Danny, "I was going to have a wank, but fell asleep too quickly."

"You mean you did that in your _sleep_?"

"I didn't do it. Geoff wanked me off while I was asleep."

"What!"

"He's a real Creevey," laughed Dennis.

"He is, Den!" said Colin, "Specially with Danny smelling the way he does."

"Yeah, Danny," said Dennis, "Did you know you _really_ pong?"

"It's gorgeous, Dan," said Colin, "As strong as Seamus, but much nicer."

"You haven't smelt his bum, Col. Have a go now." said Dennis.

The two boys squiggled around the bed, snuffling at Danny's cracks until all three boys were frantic for more sex.

Colin bummed Danny so that he could enjoy the king-size penis. Simultaneously, Dennis had Danny's five and a half inches in his mouth and wanked himself off so that Danny could taste the little blob of fluid.

They huddled up to sleep, but Danny insisted on going back to join Geoffrey, to be safe.

He put his undies on, got into bed and checked Geoff's breathing. Yes, he was asleep.

Danny giggled and reached down to feel Geoff's willy. There was not much to feel, but by the time he had slipped his hand inside Geoff's pyjamas to touch the silky flesh, it was stiffening rapidly.

He shifted down, adjusted the pyjamas, and took the not-so-tiny penis in his mouth. Goodness, it was big for a nine-year-old!

He gave a medium-strength suck, and Geoff's hips jerked forward.

Yes, he was a real Creevey!

Happily, Danny adjusted things and settled into a sleeping position.

He clasped Geoffrey's bony shin.

Yet again, he was asleep.

X

It was eight o'clock—twelve o'clock, Yorosk time—when Danny woke.

He felt an immediate thrill of excitement: he would be seeing Gully today, and perhaps learn something to help in the struggle against the Dark Side.

Geoffrey was awake and reading a book.

In this too, he was a real Creevey—Colin especially was a great reader.

Sensing, Danny's gaze, Geoff looked up and smiled.

"Morning Danny. Sleep well?"

"Like a Stunned sarsen stone. How about you? I wasn't too restless in the night, was I?"

"No you were wonderful," giggled Geoffrey.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing; just happy."

He giggled again, and Danny giggled too.

It _was_ funny: here they were, observing the due proprieties between pre- and post-pubertal boys, yet Geoffrey had wanked Danny, thinking that Danny didn't know; and Danny had sucked Geoffrey, _certain_ that Geoffrey didn't know.

And in between: Colin and Dennis . . .

He shifted a little and got a whiff of underarm which was immediately superseded by a stronger whiff of foot.

"My feet smell," said Danny, "I bet you're sorry now that you asked me into your bed."

"No it's a nice smell," said Geoff, "It's a Danny smell."

Danny decided that Geoff was a precocious pervert: at nine, Danny had liked the various smells that came from his male cousins; but he wouldn't ever have told them that.

"My feet probably smell too," said Geoff.

Danny shifted down the bed.

He sniffed at a foot. There was just the tiniest hint of cheesiness.

Danny felt a surge of love for this innocent little boy.

"They hardly smell at all," he said, "but I bet they taste vile."

He nibbled at Geoff's toes.

The boy giggled and rolled about in his pleasure. Then he pulled his foot away, and started nibbling Danny's toes.

Danny giggled too, and thought: _This boy is an absolute sex-maniac!_

They romped about and ended up wrestling on the floor.

The noise awoke the other two brothers, and soon the four of them were play-fighting.

Then Geoff squealed for no apparent reason and stopped moving. The other three boys glanced at each other. They knew that Geoffrey had had an orgasm—not the first in his life, either, as he didn't look the least surprised.

Less wrapped up in his sexual feelings, Geoffrey was able to notice other things: "You're in the _nude_! he shouted at his brothers."

"We started to get up earlier," said Colin, smoothly, "And it's not as if you haven't seen us in the nude before. Now, let's get dressed: it's bacon and eggs for me!"

"Are you having a shower, Danny?" asked Geoff, "We could have one together."

"No, I've got to do some hard work this afternoon, and I haven't got a change of clothing anyway."

In his haste to get to London, to Kingsley and to the Creeveys, Danny had brought nothing except his wand and the clothes he stood up in.

They got themselves dressed.

Geoff had been erect through the romping but the other boys had kept their willies under control.

Now, with his clothes on, Danny's body started remembering the night's merriment, and King Lust took over.

During breakfast, Mrs Creevey offered a change of clothing, but Danny declined politely.

He spent the morning on the roof-garden practising being a Muggle seventeen-year-old, and soon could speak in a respectable, husky cockney accent.

There were a few moments, while Geoffrey was absent peeing, to exchange news, the most important of which was passed over by Dennis: "Danny, Colin's got a lover!"

"Who, Alexander?"

"Yes," said Colin, "It's wonderful."

"Oh, Colin, dearest! You couldn't have picked a better boy—nor could _he_!"

"It just feels _right_ with him."

"And it's all thanks to your Jiggers, Dan," said Dennis.

"Probably not," said Danny, "Fate's a much overused concept, but sometimes a thing's meant to be."

They were interrupted by Geoffrey's return, and soon Danny had to leave.

"When will we see you again, Dan?" asked Colin.

"Depends on what happens this afternoon," said Danny.

"Hurry back, sweetikins!" said Dennis.

"As soon as I can, my poppets. The worst that can happen is that we have to wait until Novorossisk."

Goodbyes were said; wettish kisses exchanged; and soon Danny was throwing a pinch of Floo Powder into the Creevey fireplace and calling: "Diagon Alley!"

— CHAPTER FOUR —

_**Brixton Prison**_

From the Leaky Cauldron, Danny went to Brixton _en moldu_, as the French say.

The Sunday Muggle public transport was not impressive—certainly, compared to Moscow's—but he was only two minutes late at the junk-food shop.

He saw Tonks—or rather the pseudo-Tonks—at once. She was less odd-looking than usual, her hair being a lacklustre, dark blonde, and her raiment a conservative chav.

She was sitting with Mrs Figg, who seemed to be used by Professor Dumbledore and his friends as a general utility worker—an ideal choice, as she appeared to be a typical, characterless old lady: no-one would notice her.

He walked past them, saying: "Jus' gunna get a burger, innit."

When he brought back his food and sat down, Tonks gave him a passport, saying: "You're ID, Jorrocks."

Danny snarled, in his best Cockney manner: "It's Markus, Leanne, an' it's Johns wen they calls us in, an' you better not forget it."

He turned to Mrs Figg, and asked her: "What do I call you, Gran?"

"Figgy'll do dear," said Mrs Figg.

Danny discretely handed over his wand and checked his passport thoroughly.

Then he said to Tonks: " 'ave we met?"

"Need to know . . . Markus," said Tonks.

"Good," said Danny, "Just testin'. We can't afford any foul-ups. You got the order, Leanne?"

"Yes, Markus," said Tonks.

" 'ow's yer pussies, Figgy?" said Danny.

"Oh, they grow up so quickly! That little kit, Captain Penelope, puttin' it all over the village now."

They discussed Mrs Figg's cats until it was time to go.

"One point, Danny," she said as they got up, "Them wot calls their gals Leanne, talks to them as Lee."

"Thanks, Figgy," said Danny and walked out with Tonks.

They went to the Visitors' Centre.

They had to wait to get in; wait to show their ID; wait to be called to the prison; wait to get inside the prison; wait for their ID to be checked again; wait to be called to the search room; wait while they were being searched; wait to get into the waiting room; wait in the waiting room.

_Really!_ thought Danny, _Don't the authorities know that half these people are smuggling drugs in? They don't need all this extra stress!_

At last the cry of _Johns!_ let them into the Visits Room.

There were dozens of plastic tables, each with four plastic chairs.

White faces among the prisoners were diluted with high proportions of blacks and browns (the latter mainly moslem, as hindus, Chinese and sikhs tend not to get into prison).

But nowhere could he see Gully.

Then a voice called: "Markus! Leanne!"

The speaker was a seedy, straggly-haired man in his fifties. He looked every inch a criminal.

Danny and Tonks sat down at Mr Johns' table.

"Awright, Grandad!" said Danny.

"It's only an hour's visit," said Gully, "We can't piss about."

He spoke a slightly cumbersome English—the English of a man who has spent most of his life speaking various Slav languages and various Siberian languages.

"First of all, prove who you are."

"Alexei, Brian, me," said Danny, "Arbat, handkerchief, carpet, four from there, later seven from the other place. Now prove who you are."

"Prof and pussie helped at the other place. Smoked salmon, smoked sturgeon before Portkey."

Gully and Danny were each committed to letting Tonks know as little as possible.

"Right: I'll take your Leanne on trust (_Will you heck as like!_ thought Danny). First I couldn't get the rest out the other place because Gordon's very organised and he moved them straight off to an unknown destination."

Gully was telling Danny that, even from inside a Muggle prison, Kryuchkov (Gordon for today) was running his empire and had removed the remaining boys in his Butyrka school to somewhere safe.

"Another thing," Gully continued, "Something else came up."

"Lee, my dear," he said to Tonks (He's done his homework thought Danny), "Walk slowly to the counter; slowly buy three cups of tea and biscuits; and walk slowly back."

When Tonks had left, Gully continued: "First, about meteorites, or space-rocks. Most of them are just that; but some—a very, very few—come from outside our universe—mainly to balance up magic, but also for messages, prophecies, or fun.

"As you know, I've learnt a lot about them, and I've done a lot of trading with the native Siberians—they've always had a lot to do with the other universes, and they're always upsetting the balance by summoning space-rocks. I think that's wrong, but it was in my capacity as a meteorite expert that I was approached, just after I last saw you, by a man calling himself Berman.

"It was a pathetic show: We'd never met, but I'd spied on him in many guises, and knew him as Rappaport, Gordon's man in Siberia.

"He told me that a friend had got wind of four very important stones that had fallen on Britain (he called it England). He wanted me to trace them.

"I told him I wouldn't do a thing unless he told me why they were important.

"He said that a prophecy had turned up from long ago, predicting the arrival of the four stones.

"Now I know virtually all prophecies are bunk, but some are straight up the vagina."

"I know," said Danny, "They store some in the Ministry, and I've run across a couple myself."

"Well," continued Gully, "How they come about is: some events are so intense that they resonate backwards through time where they may be picked up by people with some degree of psychic gift; but they can also cross boundaries into other universes and they have to be sent back to maintain psychic balance. We see them in the form of mystic stones, and in the right hands, they generate enormous magical power. You're old enough to know now: a number of stones were needed to move your father's castle to Yorosk. The only lawful thing about the whole affair was the feast Mr Jorrocks gave at the end of it.

"Ah, Lee, my dear, sit down and join us."

Tonks had returned with the tea and biscuits.

She sat down, and they all tucked in.

Gully screwed up his face and said: "Lee, please go to end of the queue, and ask them to put another teaspoonful of sugar in for me."

Tonks seemed about to protest, but thought better of it and obeyed her Grandfather.

Gully took a sip of Tonks's tea, and continued: "I should say that prophecies are generated by intense events, but events seem to judge own intensity in isolation, so, for example, a seer may pick up a perfectly genuine prophecy that a bus ticket will blow down a drain in Mansfield, in twenty-fourteen.

"I tell you this because a prophecy predicting the arrival of four stones which may, of course, also be prophecies seemed to me likely to be just the sort of tomfool prophecy that wastes so many prophets' time.

"I told Berman that I would need the full details of the prophecy: its form; where and when it appeared; and most important, the full text, because a single word could alter the interpretation of the rest.

"He said he would have to go away and consult with his friend.

"Well, Gordon was obviously keen, because he sent Berman back the next day with the info.

"It turned out that Berman had been unnecessarily cagey: the prophecy was one of thousands that had been learnt by every shaman's son for centuries:

_In the boat that is not a boat_

_The king who is not a king_

_Will seek power that is not power._

_From the eagle that is not an eagle_

_The king who is not a king_

_Will seek four stones that are not stones._

_He who holds the stones that are not stones_

_Will rule the destroyers who are not destroyers_

_And destroy the king who is not a king._"

Danny repeated the prophecy word for word.

"Give Gordon his due," continued Gulley, "he saw at once the importance to himself: the first verse refers to Scumbag (the king who is not a king) ruling in Britain (the boat that is not a boat) with power that is not power because nothing based on negativity can dominate forever—and Gordon, unlike Scumbag, knows that.

"The second verse, Gordon related to himself: from Russia (the eagle that is not an eagle because it has two heads) the king who is not a king (not yet, anyway) would seek stones which were not stones (because they were prophecies).

"The third verse was exciting: Gordon was sure that the destroyers were Dementors— destroyers, but not destroyers because they went after people's souls, not their bodies. Whoever had the stones could destroy the king who wasn't a king. That was a bit worrying as it could mean destroying either Scumbag or Gordon himself, but he decided that, if _he_ held the stones, it would be _he_ destroying the other.

"So he sent his best man over to London. It would seem to be a forlorn hope, but this wizard—I'll call him Neville—is an expert at data-mining. He sent a message to Gordon to say he'd got a good lead, and then vanished.

"It took some time before Gordon learnt that Neville had been sucked into a trap with the rest of Gordon's men—the ones trying to kidnap Potter—and, like his master, was stuck wandless in a Muggle prison.

"That's when Gordon sent Berman to see me."

Tonks returned, and Gully said: Ah, Lee: that tea's gone straight through you (Gully had drunk all Tonks's tea). You'd better join the queue for the ladies, and spend a good ten minutes inside."

Tonks went off placidly enough, and Gully sipped his tea as he continued: "Well, I agreed to go to Britain for a fee, expenses and commission when the rocks were found. Gordon's idea was that I should repeat Neville's work, but I wasn't going to waste time: I was going to go straight to Neville.

"That meant dealing with Muggles, which is messy: the least slip-up in a Confundo can bring a gang of Ministry goons.

"So I needed a factotum who could take any Ministry trouble for me and not be traceable back. I went to the Prof and he found an excellent Arab.

"Now, Markus, I couldn't just send my man inside the prison to get the gen out of Neville with a Confundus or worse: people who deal in data, like Neville, may not be able to resist magic, but they can protect their data from even the most powerful wizards.

"But I had another approach: if I could spend some time with him as a Muggle, I would be able, by willpower strong enough to be called hypnosis, to crack him.

"My man Confunded a guard, and found that Neville's cellmate was the Richard Arthur Johns that you see before you.

"He Apparated to the cell in the middle of the night, Stunned Neville to make sure he was asleep, and made Johns an offer: a two-week holiday, cruising the Caribbean with pocket-money and a young housekeeper. Then back to prison and ten thousand pounds when he got out. Of course, Johns said yes without thinking if there would be a quid for the pro, and my factotum side-alonged him out to me. We kitted him in new clothes and I took a snip of his hair, Polyjuiced myself and got into his clothes, while he was dormant. Then I was side-alonged into the cell by my factotum, who took my wand when he left.

"So I'm an absolutely clean Muggle prisoner, though I don't think the Ministry picked up on any of our activity. Meanwhile Johns is fingering his tart in the Nassau casino.

"It took me four days of hard work to get the truth out of Neville.

"He'd traced another prophecy in the form of a wall inscription in Egypt. The original was destroyed, but Gordon had picked up a transcription in a book by a British Muggle called Pickwick—_A Cornucopia of Wall Inscriptions from the New Kingdom of Egypt_.

"And the text:

_In the land of tin will appear four stones of power_

_They will lie until the land of tin knows fear_

_They will be found by an army of four_

_The army will be three brothers and one other_

_The king brother will be the son of the richest man in the kingdom_

_One brother will be the purest man in the kingdom_

_One brother will father many sons_

_The three brothers will save the other from death_

_The brothers will be bound by the greatest force in the world_

_But the king brother will have much wisdom_

_One stone will be found in the lonely house of learning_

_One stone will be found in the field of pleasure_

_One stone will be found in the joyful house of learning_

_One stone will be found in the sorrowful house of travelling_

_But whoever gathers these four will have power_

_Power over the destroyers_

_Power to multiply the destroyers_

_Power to strengthen the destroyers_

_Power to set the destroyers on men_

_Power to set the destroyers on sages_

_Power to destroy the destroyers_

_Who will gather the stones?_

_Who will use the stones?_

_Will they be used by another army of four?_

_Will they be used by another powerful family?_

"Repeat after me."

They went through it a line at a time. Then, Danny could recite it from memory.

"Before we go through the points that we can pick up," said Gully, "Let's look at it from Gordon's point of view: Gordon's always looking to extend his power and, like Scumbag, he's had his eye on the Dementors—and most probably destroyers means Dementors.

"Unlike Scumbag, our Gordon is prepared to leave his people free to use their own initiative. He set Neville off looking for anything to do with the first prophecy, and Neville came up with this beauty—in a Muggle book, if you please: Scumbag and his death eaters would never think to look there.

"Neville knows that Gordon would casually kill him off it were in the least helpful to him, but he also knows that Gordon will never kill needlessly and he will never force his followers to heed his own dogma.

"So Neville unearthed a gem, and obviously, when I heard the prophecy, my ears were on stalks, like yours are now: the land of tin—you could dig it out at ground-level in Cornwall in those days—which was Britain, was indeed knowing fear after Scumbag reappeared.

"Then when I heard that the son of the richest man in the kingdom had great wisdom, I knew it was you; and I knew that you called the two eldest Creevey boys your brothers; and I thought one of the houses of learning might be Hogwarts."

"Yes, I think it's me," said Danny, "And— "

"Don't say a word!" interrupted Gully, "Let me know only what you have to, and let me know if I can help you, otherwise I'll wait here until Johns finishes his jolly and the factotum will swap us back,"

"OK, Grandad. Thanks for everything. Leave it with me. Can I contact you at the Moscow office?"

"Yes. One last point—it may be obvious but I'll say it: the prophecy says that you and your gang will _find_ the four stones, but it leaves it up in the air as to who will gather them together, so gaining their power; and who will use them, and how. That's probably not yet decided."

"Points all taken. I like the bit about destroying the destroyers. How big's your arsehole, Grandad?"

Gully laughed uproariously and said: "Great wisdom! I've got enough Polyjuice to last, thanks!"

Tonks arrived back, and Gully greeted her with: "Perfect timing, Lee! And talking of Polyjuice, are you male or female in civvy street?"

"No comment," said Tonks.

"I've been a female sometimes," said Gully, "Sex was better than nothing, but it wasn't brilliant. I was always a male in my conscious mind and in my instincts. I could never enjoy getting shagged."

"Next time try and meet Mitzi," said Danny.

"Mitzi?"

"She's a Moscow pro. My friend Alexei says she was born a man and grew breasts with 108K, which apparently is enormous. Alexei's seen them, but he hasn't seen her prick, which is meant to be twelve inches."

Gully laughed his great laugh: "I think I'll stick to polishing my button."

He turned to Tonks: "Was that what you were doing in the ladies, my dear? Did you stick a finger in your slit? I love tight slits . . ."

For the remainder of the visiting period, Gully talked in the most revolting manner about the female anatomy.

It might be revolting, but it gave Danny an idea: some time he would Polyjuice into a woman, and see what being shagged in the official manner was like. His mind and soul were totally committed to sex with men, and if his body were committed too . . . things would be, at the very least, interesting.

When they said goodbye, Danny and Gully shook hands, but Tonks had to submit to a kiss from her loving grandfather.

X

When they left the prison gate, Tonks said "Now—"

But Danny interrupted her: "Quiet! I've got things to think about."

He had indeed.

He ran through the first prophecy and decided that there was nothing more to be gained from it.

The second prophecy did, he was sure, refer to him, but he wasn't going to get puffed up about his _great wisdom_: he knew that prophecies are often simplistic and literal-minded. This one looked as though it might be a results-merchant.

By the same token, Colin might not be _the purest man in the kingdom_, but he was the purest boy that Danny knew.

And Dennis—thirteen years old; sex-mad; turning heterosexual—would surely father many children.

But the fourth boy . . . he could not think of anyone that he and his brothers had saved from death. Arguably, he had saved Brian from Voldemort; and Alyosha plus other Russian boys from death on the streets, or in the army, or within the ranks of Kryuchkov. But Dennis and Colin had not been involved.

What about Yuri? The three of them had got him out of Hogwarts. Had he found a stone during his week or so there?

Yes, Yuri was the best bet so far.

He smiled at _the greatest force in the world_: If Scumbag ever saw the prophecy, he would probably interpret the phrase as the Cruciatus curse; Kryuchkov, as his army of boy-wizards; but Danny knew that the greatest force in the world was Love!

And the three brothers had such an intense love for each other . . . and . . . and Colin was in love with Alexander! Yes, Alexander Bell had been desperate at the time of the first Jiggers' meeting—desperate, perhaps, to the point of suicide. The three brothers might indeed have saved Alexander from death.

But why were there two houses of learning, one lonely and one joyful?

And what was a house of travelling? The Hogwarts Express?

And the field of pleasure? An open-air brothel?

Danny giggled and walked into the junk-food shop with Tonks.

He felt happy: he hadn't actually _done_ anything, but something of himself had gone thousands of years into the past and waited so that it could help him and the other three boys.

Figgy was sitting with an old man. They looked a typical pensioner couple.

"Awright, Gran! Awright Gramps!" he shouted, in character, "Bofe got summat? Wot 'bout you, Uncle Severus? You look like you could do a cuppa!"

Tonks gritted her teeth and said: "Yes, thank you."

Danny bought tea for Tonks and a banana milk-shake for himself.

Mrs Figg gave them their wands.

"Is this a debriefing?" he asked, "Shall I do the honours? _Muffliato!_"

They could not now be heard by the other customers, who were, in any case making a din themselves.

Danny smiled her, and then at the old man.

"Coffee," he said "I guess it's Kingsley; the Headmaster would be having the nearest they've got to a knickerbocker glory. Never mind; the monkey's as good as the organ-grinder!"

Kingsley laughed happily, but Snape said: "Jorrocks, you are the most ill-mannered boy I have ever met. How did you deduce my identity?"

"A general air of stress—and don't think I haven't got sympathy. I think it's brilliant the way you keep going."

Kingsley smiled: Snape didn't get many compliments.

He leaned towards Danny and said: "Danny: never mind _ill-mannered_; my congratulations on your get-up: I've never seen such a slovenly, dirty, unkempt, smelly boy in my life."

Danny laughed, saying: "Oh, Kingsley, I regret to tell you that this isn't a get-up; it's me!"

"I won't tell Mrs Jorrocks," smiled Kingsley, "Now what can you tell us about today's events."

"You neatly put away the gang that were going to kidnap HP. One of them, though was nothing to do with the kidnapping: he was there on another project for Kryuchkov.

"Gully got onto the project and inserted himself as a cellmate of the baddie—a clever bit of work.

"He got the secrets out of the baddie—another clever bit of work—and found that they involved me.

"I've got to do something; I don't know what; I don't know where or how, but it doesn't involve Voldemort and it's mainly to be done in Russia."

The last bit was a big lie, and the bit before a probable lie; but the rest was true.

"Gully'll be back in Russia in a week and he said to thank you for your support today."

Another lie. But he was sure Gully would have said thanks if his backside had been kicked hard enough.

"And, of course, it's a big thank you from me. And by the way, Figgy, did you know that you're a factotum?"

Mrs Figg laughed: "I don't know what that means, Danny, but I'm sure I've been called much worse things."

The laugh became a cackle, and Danny remembered Dung's portrayal of her in her prime: legs wide apart in a coal-cellar with a sweating, beery rough pounding away on top.

"Anything else, Danny?" asked Kingsley.

"Nothing for now. I'll keep you informed if there's anything that touches on your work. With your new position, I suppose you won't be answering your phone much?"

"We've got good lines of communication via Hogwarts. There'll always be a Duty Head of House in residence. So an owl with Aesopian language—Albus tells me you're good at that."

"Good at everything!" said Mrs Figg.

"Shut-up Figgy," laughed Danny, "Or I'll get even more ill-mannered!"

Then he said to Snape: "Am I still registered at Hogwarts, Professor?"

"So far as I am aware. Professor Umbridge did not remove you, and nobody else who'd have done so. Are you thinking of returning? Your education must be getting behind. You should not waste your talents."

"I might have to pop in," said Danny.

"You should keep the Headmaster informed; or if he is busy, Shacklebolt."

"It's only to use the library," said Danny.

"Time to go," said Kingsley, "Shall I give you a lift home, Arabella?"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" said Mrs Figg, "I wouldn't take up your time."

Kingsley opened his mouth to protest, but Danny jumped in with: "I'll run you home, Figgy. Come on!"

He shook hands with Snape, who immediately edged towards the toilet, presumably to wash his hands.

To Kingsley, he said: "I forgot to ask about the real Tonks. Please give her my love and say I hope she's sorting out her A's and B's."

"Will do."

"Hold tight, Figgy!"

Danny Disillusioned and Apparated to Little Whinging.

They landed on the rec by the Indian shop.

"That's nice," said Mrs Figg, "I'll get a couple of tins. Would you like to come to mine for a proper cuppa, and meet the cats?"

"Another time, Figgy, thanks. I must dash."

Ten seconds earlier, this would have been a lie, but he'd had a sudden idea.

He kissed Figgy goodbye, and set off for Paddington Station.

The Creeveys had been talking of an afternoon at the seaside, in which case, they wouldn't be home for hours.

In the meantime, Danny decided to play Hunt the Bell!

— CHAPTER FIVE —

_**Alexander Bell**_

Alexander lived in Stratford—at the top of a hill was as much as Danny knew.

He landed in Paddington station.

As he made his way towards the Floo Point, he enjoyed, as usual, the passing males, assessing their characters, attractiveness, sexuality, and probable sexual performance.

It was mainly a holiday crowd: holidays abroad and at home; London weekend breaks; days out.

Danny had quick eyes and a quick brain. In less than a second he could take in the face, build, gait, bump and clothing of any male; with an occasional quick glance behind to add the buttocks, as dictated by clothing and sexiness.

Today he was as keen as ever: no-one need be bored in a crowd.

But there was something different. It took him some to crack it, then it came to him: he was concentrating on older men.

Groups of tanned or pale twenty-somethings, whose holidays were a smear of beaches, clubs, drunkenness, drugs, vaginas and VD.

Groups of men in their thirties, usually with their womenfolk; they would lose each other on some nights, the men finding a Sharon, Kylie, Bethany; the women a Rodrigo, Nicos, Kemal.

Fathers in their forties: surrounded by kids, and harassed-looking. One or two gave Danny a sharp glance: a quick fantasy, perhaps, of a boy who didn't pester them; who let them play with his dong; who knelt down in front of them.

Men in their fifties, with a first or second wife, sometimes in foursomes or parties; golfing, line-dancing, spending their kids' inheritance.

Men in their sixties, still active, some of them yearning for the unattainable: young, young flesh under their hands.

And men who had reached their three score years and ten, but were far removed from the Muggle bard's description, being kitted out with teeth, eyes, taste, everything.

Danny had a half-strength horn by the time he reached the Floo Point. He realised that he had been with no-one beyond the early twenties for months.

Despite the beautiful boys that he spent his life with, Nature had clearly dictated a need for mature males as an occasional part of his sexual diet.

There were quite a few wizards and witches about, and he had to queue for the Floo.

As he dropped in the Powder, he pronounced very distinctly: _STRATFORD_ _UPON_ _AVON!_

Enunciation had been an important part of his Floo-training when he was seven, and he still stuck to it, even though a mollycoddling Ministry had renamed, for example, _Stratford London_ as _Quite Near Bow London_.

As he emerged in the middle of the correct Stratford, the swirling air from the Floo wafted his body odour and he decided that he must clean himself up. Sunday was bath night for the boys at Yorosk, anyway!

It was a beautiful summer day. The Dementors had not reached Stratford.

He walked through the town until he found a group of pretty boys, and asked them: " 'Scuse me: is there a supermarket near here?"

One boy said: "Just up there, mate."

Another added: "Closed in ten minutes."

Danny ran hard and found the shop easily.

He bought packs of socks and knickers, a T-shirt and a track suit.

He added soap and a towel, just in case.

He had seen a large hotel at the end of the road, and it was his intention to magic his way into an empty room, have a shower, and leave the room as he found it.

It was cheating Muggles, which was not something he liked doing, and which was unwise in the current climate.

But he was buggered if he was going to spend sixty or more pounds for two minutes of cheap water.

He passed the same pretty boys. There were four of them.

"Got your stuff then, mate?"

"Just made it, thanks to you."

"You running away?"

"A fair assumption from my appearance!" laughed Danny, "I've been camping with mates over Bow way. I'm gonna have a shower and a change, and then I'm gonna find where my other mate lives. You might be able to help me: he's called Alexander Bell, and he lives on top of a hill?"

The lads shook their heads.

A dark, sly boy said: "There's only one hill, up there, see?"

He pointed.

Then the prettiest, boy—a particularly shaggable sixteen-year-old—said: "Where are you having your shower, Swimming Pool?"

"That's a good idea," said Danny, "Where is it?"

"Down there, turn right," they chorused, "Only a pound for kids".

"Thanks!"

Danny set off, then turned and called back: "You're doing everything for me today! Would you like to eat my dinner for me? And shag my boyfriend?"

Laughter had greeted the dinner, and frozen smiles the boyfriend.

Danny imagined their thoughts: _Was he joking? How should I react? What will my mates think?_

He imagined that a quick change of subject would occur, but four young minds would know that there was a _possibility_ that a boy who looked about twelve could quite genuinely talk, openly and unembarrassedly about shagging his boyfriend.

Sex education was important!

X

At the Sports Centre, Danny paid his pound and found the loos.

He waited for a cubicle, then, with _Engorgio!_ enlarged the pockets of his new trousers to wand-length.

He took off his money-belt and stuffed it in the pockets of the trousers he was wearing.

He went for a wander. The pool was heaving. It was a family day, though they had a bit roped off for serious swimmers.

The changing-rooms were also busy, but he didn't have to queue for the showers, as, for most of the punters, it was a quick in-and-out.

In the shower-room, there were a few willies to be seen, though a surprising proportion of the men and boys kept their trunks on, including all the brown-skins—from modesty or shyness, presumably, but with the spin-off that Danny did not have to confront the horror of circumcision.

He thought of his old dormitory, where five little willies swung free, and were stared at, commented on, and in latter days, touched in complete innocence.

But circumstances were not of the best for willy-appreciation: Danny's eyes were mainly on the hook from which the trousers holding his money and wand hung; and anyway, he did not want to get a stiffie.

He had time to register one man who wiped the shampoo from his hair for an unnecessarily long time so that he could peep at Danny between his fingers.

After soaping all over, Danny had a quick dry and returned to the changing-room for a more leisurely enjoyment of the visible humanity.

The air was throbbing with the yells of excited children, but louder than these was the macho talk of two men who had evidently been playing a racket sport and were letting it be known that they were not interested, let alone fazed, by male nudity.

Another racket-player _was_ interested: in fact he was interested in Danny; not staring, but flashing glances at his face and body.

He was a tall, rich-looking man in his late thirties.

Had Danny not had other priorities, he might have been interested in trying out the rear seats of the BMW which, no doubt, the man owned.

Next to him, a slightly older man, who had sent two of his kids ahead of him to the cafeteria, was dressing stolidly and methodically.

He was of the working class. Danny guessed that he was oblivious to any sexual nuances in his situation.

He asked the man: "Excuse me please, could you spare a couple of squirts of your spray?"

"Sure," said the man, passing it over.

Danny sprayed his trainers, passed the tin back to the man, and left the changing room.

He vowed to himself that one day he would Disillusion and spend a day in a changing-room.

He adjusted his clothing in the loo, leaving the bag with his old clothes there for the attendants to clear away. He clucked inwardly as he thought of the reaction of whoever found his underpants.

He was on the point of leaving the building, when he saw his pretty boys hanging about outside.

They didn't look as though they were planning to gay-bash him, so it seemed as though they had picked up his bait.

He was astounded: four Muggle boys, utterly buttoned up sexually, were cruising him.

He knew he was a fairly good-looking boy, but would never have predicted the devastating effect that he had apparently had on them.

With straight boys at Hogwarts, it had taken weeks or months before they had learnt that they could enjoy gay sex.

Unhappily, the moment was wrong: finding Alexander was number one priority.

Under cover of an exiting family, he slipped out the Sports Centre, and glissaded away from the boys.

He set off towards the north-east, and walked up the hill.

X

The area was a long-established collection of detached and semi-detached houses. Such neighbourhoods were given the grandiose title _Estate_ by Muggles.

He paced from street to street, but could detect no undertones of magic anywhere.

After half an hour he gave up.

The libraries didn't open on Sundays, so he could obtain no help there.

He bought a sandwich and can of pop, and went down to picnic by the bard's river.

As he was sitting amid a host of happy families, watching the rowers, he thought of the bard himself: not a wizard, but his words showed that he had met wizards—perhaps even the great Doctor Dee.

Surely a wizard had passed on the concept: _We are such stuff as dreams are made on_ which was a key instruction in textbooks dealing with Corporeal Impersonation—a technique which he still had not mastered.

Even Professor de Castro had not been able to help with Corporeal Impersonation. Perhaps if Danny and Hermione Granger worked hard at it for a couple of weeks, they might get somewhere. Hermione would know that Danny would only use this powerful charm selflessly, and only in the fight against the Dark Side.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cheery: "Hello!"

He looked up and saw his four pretty boys.

Goodness! They must be extremely interested in him!

"We waited for you at the Sports Centre," said the pretty blond.

"I must have missed you," said Danny.

"I remembered about Alexander Bell," said the tallest boy.

Danny laughed: How puffed up he had been, thinking that they fancied him! And they were merely doing him a citizenly favour!

"What's the joke?" said the tallest boy.

"If I'd known, I could've saved myself half an hour's fruitless wandering about. Anyway, tell me about Alexander."

"Well, it may not be the same Alexander," said the boy, "but there was an Alexander Bell at my junior school. Three or four years younger than me. He was very quiet."

"That'd be him," said Danny.

"He lived at Lambe Cottage, L-A-M-B-E. That's in Chillerton Street. It's a tiny place. None of his classmates were ever invited in. They used to joke that they were sorcerers!"

"Ha-ha! I passed Lambe Street earlier. I'll go up there when I've had my picnic. Why not sit down and have a chat?"

The lads sat down.

"Keep your eyes off my sandwich," said Danny "I was only joking when I said you could eat my food for me!"

The lads laughed, and Danny wondered whether one or more of them were thinking: _Was he also joking about shagging his boyfriend?_

Danny allowed a moment for this luscious thought to take shape, then said: "Shall we introduce ourselves? My name's Danny."

The others were: Simon, dark-haired and secretive-looking; Peter, mousey blond, very pretty; Paul, dark, pretty, very slight; David, brown hair, bumptious.

"Let me guess," said Danny, "You've just done your O-levels."

"Yeah," said David, "We were celebrating last night. We've been walking it off."

"You should be running it off on the cricket field," said Danny.

He thought that cricket, with its many distinct roles, was one of the most interesting Muggle games; and then there was the sight of the players clad in virginal white. Perhaps he would give it a try at Yorosk. Perhaps Professor de Castro would say: "But the house-elves could do that for you!"

"We play it at school," said Peter, "Simon and Paul were in the Under-sixteens—they'll probably get in the Seconds next year."

"Do you play, Danny?" asked Paul.

"Not any more. I go to a boarding school abroad."

"Whereabouts?" asked David.

"Would you believe Russia? My dad's got a job there."

"Did you have to learn Russian?"

"Of course."

"That's one of our options for next year," said Simon, "After five years' compulsory Latin, any living language would be welcome. Do you do Latin, Danny?"

"Not any more. I sometimes read it for pleasure."

There were hoots of amusement and disbelief.

Danny interrupted their laughter: "If you do Latin, I guess you go to a proper school—a grammar school?"

The boys confirmed this and talked about their school for a while,

Horns are always coming and going with teenage boys, but Danny noticed that the tall David was in a state of permanent priapism. Danny got a couple of glimpses of bump, but David usually lounged with one or both legs drawn up.

Danny was aroused himself: the boy David probably had plenty of dragon in his wand.

Danny knew that sex wasn't on the agenda.

That wasn't really relevant: pleasure enough it was, sitting in the late-afternoon sun, talking to these beautiful, wholesome, intelligent Muggles.

Still, as Danny sat listening to Simon discoursing on school meals, the image of the horny David shagging the horny Danny into the ground was hovering.

Matters were interrupted by Paul shouting: "Look at these clowns!"

One of the boats was being rowed by a child.

He had caught a crab, and fallen backwards with his feet in the air.

His companions were laughing and shouting.

Danny strained and saw that there were two companions.

Interesting-looking boys.

Quite like the Creeveys.

"_Me retropedicate!_" he shouted, "It _is_ the Creeveys!"

He explained to the four pretty boys: "They're friends of mine."

He touched his wand and set up a current that draw the boat towards him.

He could easily work out what had happened: the Creeveys had decided not to go to the seaside. As an attractive alternative, the boys had travelled to Stratford to look up Alexander. They had found the house empty—maybe the Bells were on holiday—and plumped for an afternoon on the Avon.

Geoffrey had regained his seated position.

He started rowing again, but before long, his brothers were shouting at him.

They were near enough for Danny to hear: "Geoff! We're going the wrong way!"

Danny touched his wand again and invoked the Nudge Charm (a diluted cousin of the Stinging Hexes).

He sent: _dah dit dit; dit dah dah dah_ which Colin would feel as tiny taps on his bottom.

"STOP, Geoff!" shouted Colin.

Danny waved, and was greeted with shouts of joy.

"Ditch the boat," he called.

"I'm going ashore!" shouted Geoffrey, and as soon as the boat touched, leapt onto the bank.

Had it been Dennis, he would surely have fallen in, but Geoffrey did it like an old sea-dog and scampered over to jump astraddle on the still-seated Danny.

He wrapped his arms around Danny's neck, kissed him (too excited to remember about the tongue) and shouted: "Did you come looking for Alexander too?"

"Get off, Geoff," said Danny, "And don't shout in my ear."

Geoffrey sat beside Danny, and said, in a quieter tone: "I've got blisters, look."

Danny looked and saw that Geoff had the beginnings of blisters.

"You must have done a lot of rowing, Geoff."

"Yeah, more than Dennis and Colin."

"You brought it to the bank beautifully," said David.

"Used the river's eddies," said Danny, quickly.

He hoped that his urgent intervention would signal to Geoff that they were dealing with Muggles.

But Geoffrey was too excited to pick up nuances.

"Who are you?" he asked, "Do you go to Hogwarts too?—Ow!"

A mild Stinging Hex had occurred.

Danny brushed Geoffrey's arm: "A mosquito, Geoff!" he said.

Geoffrey was silent. The Statute of Secrecy had been drummed into him from infancy, and he must be feeling guilty.

Meanwhile, Colin had skulled quickly to the depot and regained his deposit.

He came running over with Dennis.

The two brothers gave Danny a brief hug and kiss, and Danny said: "Was he out, Col?"

"We lost the address. I lost it. I wrote it on a bit of parchment, and I think I might have left it in my bedside table. We thought we'd come on the off-chance, but it was hopeless, so we went on the boat."

"I came on the off-chance too, but good news: I met these lads, and David gave me the address, so we can go and see him in a mo."

"He probably _will_ be out," laughed Colin, "It's gone good, bad, good; so next up is bad!"

"We'll leave him a note," said Danny, "He'll be pleased we called and we can send him a . . . letter before we come again.

"I like the shell-suit, Dan," said Dennis.

"I got it in Stratford. I didn't have time to sort myself out down south."

"Did you get new pants too," asked Geoffrey, "They were absolutely filthy!"

Young wizards would probably have accepted boys, who kissed and hugged every time they met, and knew about the state of each other's underpants, but Danny could see the Muggles goggling.

"These lads don't want to know about the state of my undies, Geoff," he laughed, "Talking of which, I'd better introduce everyone: this is the three Creevey brothers: Colin . . . Dennis . . . Geoffrey; and these are the Stratford boys—let me know if I get it wrong—David . . . Paul . . . Peter . . . Simon."

Hellos were said.

Danny could see that David, who had not been able to take his eyes off Colin since his arrival, was still suffering from the horn.

Danny recounted his adventures since meeting the Stratford boys.

"It's a good job you were around," said Colin, "Otherwise Danny would still be lonely and dirty, and we'd still be messing around on the river."

"Have you broken up at school yet?" asked Dennis.

"That's a sore point," said Geoffrey.

They talked a bit about their schools, then Danny got to his feet.

"Colin?" he said.

"Yes, brother—Oh, I forgot to tell you: Danny's out adopted brother."

"Colin, has Alexander got an elder brother?"

"No, he's an only child. Why."

"There's a tall boy walking along there that looks quite like him

Colin looked where Danny was pointing.

Then he jumped to his feet and ran towards the boy.

"It _is_ Alexander!" said Dennis.

"Bloody hell, he's shot up!" said Danny.

The two boyfriends didn't kiss, but they had a long, tight cuddle, and one of Alexander's hands was _very_ low down on Colin's back.

They came over and the first thing Alexander did was to burst into tears and run to hug Danny.

He kissed Danny on the lips, and said between his sobs: "It's you I have to thank . . . You made me see what's possible . . . Me and Colin . . . It's all because of you . . . You and your big heart . . ."

Danny was not in the least embarrassed, but thought Alexander might need reining in, with Muggles present.

He whispered: "Statute of Secrecy!" in Alexander's ear, which steadied him somewhat.

The first thing to do was to introduce Alexander to the third Creevey brother, and then to the Stratford boys, who were wide-eyed at the set they'd fallen into.

Then there were mutual explanations.

Then, "What about you, Alex?" asked Colin.

"I was lonely, restless and bored. School was so good and I've got no friends here. I thought I'd go for a walk through the crowds."

"We _are_ a crowd!" said Dennis, "Nine boys, and one of them's starving."

"Two," said Geoffrey.

There was general agreement.

"It's time I was home for tea," said Simon, getting up.

This signalled an end to the session, and all the boys rose.

Danny saw that David still had a bulge. A few seconds alone in private, and Danny could have sorted it for him, but such a scenario was beyond even Danny's powers of organisation.

"Shall we go to yours, Alex," asked Colin, "and get something on the way?"

"Er . . . OK," said the boy, blushing—Danny guessed that Alexander had noticed the same thing that he had: Colin had a bulge too.

The walked towards the entrance in two groups.

Then David walked back and said to Alexander: "Give us your phone number, if you want, Alexander. When your mates aren't here, there's no need to be lonely, restless and bored: you can come and be just bored hanging out with us."

"We're not on the phone," said Alexander.

"I'll give you mine; anyone got a pen?"

Danny touched his wand, and produced a Muggle pen from his pocket.

David jotted the number down on an old bus ticket.

Danny had a feeling, to judge by David's eyes, which flickered from Danny to Colin, that David, at least, would like to hang out with Alexander when his mates _were_ there.

He wondered at the group dynamic: how had the four Stratford boys decided to offer friendship to a boy four years younger than themselves?

At the main road, came the parting of the ways: two of the locals set off to walk home, and the other two discussed buses and taxis.

The five wizards turned towards the hill.

"I'm hungry," said Geoffrey.

"There's a Chinky down that road," said Alexander.

"It's a bit hot for eating inside," said Colin, "How about a takeaway and we eat it by the river?"

"Better still, eat it in my garden; Mum won't mind."

"Are you sure, Alexander?" asked Danny, "Not every parent wants five teenagers and a bag of food turning up at their door."

"Mum'll be OK and Dad ignores me anyway."

"Why's that?"

"He thinks I'm soft. I really think he'd throw me out if he found out I was gay."

"Better not let him find out, then; and as for being soft: all of us act as if Alexander were our bullying gangleader—he's big enough anyway. Has your _membrum virile_ grown _pro rata_?"

Alexander giggled: "Not yet."

"It's a very sweet _membrum_," said Colin, "Perfect in every way."

They reached the Chinese restaurant, and discussed the menu that was displayed in the window.

Alexander said: "Before we buy the food, I've got another idea: you could all stay over tonight, then you wouldn't have the hassle of rushing off."

There were excited chirrups, but Danny said: "Are you sure, Alexander? David said that you lived in a tiny place."

"We've got a tent! I wanted to sleep out last night, but Mum wouldn't let me because of You-Know-Who. With five of us, it should be OK!"

They were all pleased at the prospect and walked up the hill in a state of happiness, which was enhanced by Danny singing:

_Ev'ry prick's a sweety,_

_Good for ev'ry gay._

_Ev'ry prick's completely_

_Perfect in its way._

_Black, brown, pink or yellow,_

_Straight or with a bend,_

_Short or long, this fellow_

_Is made to be your friend._

_Every prick's a stunner,_

_Every prick is nice,_

_Every prick's a wonder_

_In between your thighs._

_Every prick is joyous,_

_Whether it's thin or thick._

_The lesson to teach your boy is_

_Be happy with your prick!_

Life was good, they felt, as Alexander led them into his house.

X

Life got even better: Mrs Bell was so delighted that her son had brought home some wizard friends, that she agreed to the sleepout plan without Mr Bell having to accuse her of mollycoddling that boy.

Mr Bell was a gruff sort of man—perhaps as a result of his job: he was a Detritus Scourer, tasked with removing anything that had been left by magic folk which Muggles shouldn't see.

He was not a good enough wizard to be an Obliviator, though, as he never tired of saying, he did the hard work and the Obliviators got the pay and the glory.

Still, he _did_ get a good wage; also totting rights which allowed him to sell on any useful junk that he found.

There are plenty of careless wizards and witches; and, of course, plenty of pranksters, so Mr Bell took a jaundiced view of magical folk in general.

And then, illogically, though he had let it been known that he would have preferred a daughter, his unassertive, gentle son irritated him.

Pleased and surprised that his son appeared to be one of the Hogwarts bloods, he even agreed that he and Mrs Bell partake in the Chinky—"That lamb'll keep until tomorrow," said Mrs Bell.

The Bell house was, indeed, tiny: the two-ups and two-downs could scarcely accommodate the furniture.

It was one of a terrace of six, probably built to house farm labourers, and long pre-dating the _estate_ which had replaced the farm.

Mr and Mrs Bell preferred living in a Muggle area, and got on well with their neighbours—to the extent that _her next-door_ sometimes popped in for tea and chat.

Following Alexander, they threaded their way through the house and out to the garden.

Danny had not sensed anti-Muggle protection at the front of the house, but it was strong at the back: Danny knew that they could dance naked with a hundred elves, without the neighbours noticing a thing.

All seven of the party were familiar with Chinese food, and had a lot of fun making their selections.

Danny volunteered to collect the food. This was because he was hungry and Apparating under Disillusionment would save time.

Danny wanted to keep the fact that he could Disillusion secret from his enemies—which meant keeping it from his friends too, as what they didn't know, couldn't be let slip through carelessness, probing, or worse.

So he pretended that he fancied a walk, which meant that the other four insisted on coming too.

Still it was fun walking down the hill as well as walking up.

They stopped off at a telephone box for Colin to phone home and ask his mother to pass the message on to Danny's mother.

The best bit was walking back, hungry and knowing that their hunger would soon be satisfied, as the gorgeous smells leaked from the containers.

They sang the prick song again, and raced to the front door.

They took the food to the garden-table, and the feasting began

X

At ten o'clock, Mr Bell said: "Right! Time for bed. I've got work at seven o'clock tomorrow, and I don't want a peep out of you lot."

Despite the impression that might be taken from this surly speech, Mr Bell had mellowed during the evening, being particularly impressed by Danny's description of Alexander felling him with a single punch during a squabble.

They erected the tent by magic.

It had a built-in mattress covering the entire floor.

The boys had a quilt each.

They would sleep in their underpants, in a line of five.

Danny took charge of proceedings.

"Geoff to that side . . . then Dennis."

"I want _you_ to sleep next to me, Dan," said Geoff.

"No, you're too restless for me, Geoff."

Geoffrey was silent, probably wondering how much Danny had guessed.

"Then me, Alex and Col."

Danny knew that it was virtually impossible for him to spend the night next to Colin and not have red-hot sex, but he thought that he and Dennis might cope.

As it was, Colin and Alexander would be able to make love safe from molestation: Danny knew how gay pre-teens' minds worked: Geoff was surely bursting with curiosity about the size of Colin's erection.

He got under his quilt feeling very tired. It had been a long, busy day, and his body was still on Yorosk time.

He put his head on the pillow, and _Whoomph!_ it was around six in the morning.

He raised his head.

So far so good: Geoff was under his quilt, sound asleep; and Dennis was being a good boy too.

Then Danny smelt semen. The tent was reeking of it.

Geoff knew that smell now. If he woke up, Danny would have to tell him, _Sorry, I just had a wank._

Perhaps he had!

He touched his underpants, but they were bone-dry.

He turned and looked for the only other source of semen.

The sight wouldn't have shamed the Romans.

Colin and Alexander had more-or-less discarded their quilts.

Colin was lying on his back with Alexander half lying on top of him.

Alexander was sucking on a nipple, and cradling Colin's, presumably sticky, genitals in his hand.

Colin had both hands on Alexander's bum, with one hand deeply embedded in the crack.

_Don't wake up now Geoff!_ he thought, at the same time rejoicing in the deep love and sexiness of the two boys' posture. He would have a sneaky wank into his pants in a few moments; but first, he must sort out the situation.

He crawled over and found the two pairs of discarded pants.

He shook the two lovers and whispered: "Put them on!"

Sleepily, they obeyed, and Danny manoeuvred them into their correct locations.

"Idiots!" he whispered, "Suppose Geoff woke up? Suppose Mr Bell came to say goodbye?"

He covered them neatly with their quilts, and told them: Don't move an inch!"

He kissed Alexander, and moved to kiss Colin, at which point Alexander pulled down Danny's waistband and took his throbbing willy into his mouth.

Danny suppressed an _EEK!_ and moved to jerk backwards.

But his body wouldn't obey.

He jerked _forwards_, and started a rapid, quivery shag of Alexander's mouth.

It felt so wonderful.

He found himself holding Colin's hand tightly, as he spurted into Alexander's mouth: one, two, three, four in quickfire succession.

Alexander had a strong gag reflex, so most of Danny's cum drooled out of either side of Alexander's mouth.

Danny pulled back as he should have done half a minute earlier.

Colin and Alexander were kissing passionately.

Danny gave them a few seconds, then broke them up and pushed them firmly under their quilts.

He whispered: "As I was saying: don't move an inch, you little darlings!"

He lay down, covered himself, and prepared for an hour's sleep.

Sleep wouldn't come, but that didn't matter: it was pleasant to look at the sleeping heads of Dennis and Alexander.

At seven o'clock, he got up, dressed, purified the air with a couple of charms, and wandered into the kitchen, where Mrs Bell made him a cup of tea.

He was sitting drinking it when Alexander emerged, not looking like a boy his mouth had just been filled with Danny-juice—nor, for that matter, like a boy who had once dropped Danny with a mighty punch.

As they sat outside, Danny said: "Now, naughty boy, I have a confession to make. The Creeveys came here out of friendship; so did I, but I wanted to see you about something else."

"Fire away, Danny. You know I'll refuse you nothing."

"What it is, is this: I'm on a magical quest, and I want to know if, at any time you can think of a stone having a significant effect in your life?"

"A _stone_? What sort of stone?"

"I don't know. It's in an old prophecy, and it just specifies _stone_."

Alexander thought.

"Can't think of anything."

"Keep thinking, and I'll fill your mug up."

When he got back, Alexander said: "Nothing I can think of, except that silly thing last year."

"What silly thing?"

"You know; the thing in the _Prophet_ last year."

"I must have missed it."

"I'll get you the cutting."

When he came back, he had an album. He gave it to Danny who read:

_**STRATFORD MAN AND SON ATTACKED BY OWL-POO**_

_Mr Alfred Bell, an employee of the Ministry's Warwickshire Office, and his son Alexander had an amazing escape last Tuesday when a small, black rock hurtled from the air at high speed, striking the Scouring Cart on which they were travelling at a point midway between father and son._

"_We could either of us have been killed," said Mr Bell._

_Mr Bell reported the incident to the Ministry, forwarding the rock._

_Imagine his surprise when a Ministry expert told him that, because of the rodent fur and bones attached to the rock, it was believed to be an owl-pellet._

_The Ministry told the Prophet yesterday that it was quite likely that an owl might take a small object mistaking it for a shrew. "But the owl's digestive system is complex," said the Ministry spokesman, "and highly-specialised in dealing with unwanted material, and if nature takes its course when the owl is high in the air there could be a risk to life."_

Danny snorted at the ignorance of the reporter who confused owl-orifices so crassly.

"The thing is," said Alexander, "It's all nonsense."

"Newspapers often are."

"It was only a little rock, and it was going slowly. It barely clattered when it hit the cart. Dad was hoping for compensation for mental anguish, but when he was told not a hope, the owl thing came up and he got a couple of Galleons from the _Prophet_ for the story

"The thing about being nearly killed is a joke; and anyway I wouldn't have minded being killed then. Dad made me feel worthless and I was terrified of going to Hogwarts, but thanks to you and your JIGS, Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Danny homed in on the vital point: "Where's the rock now?"

"It's in my bedroom," said Alexander, "Come and see."

He led the way up a narrow staircase.

His room was scarcely big enough for bed, table, chair and mini-cupboard. Resting on a shelf was the black rock. It was shiny and about the size of a pigeon's egg; undistinguished in any way. Danny could detect no magic within it.

Nevertheless, he had no doubt that Alexander was _the_ _other_. His confirmation of suicidal feelings sealed the case for that. And there had been no other hint of a stone."

He asked Alexander: "Please can I have this?"

"You can have anything!"

"Thanks. Don't say anything about this to anyone. There may be others interested. Oh, and Alexander!"

"Yeah?"

"Please try and be more careful about sex."

"What? Not to dribble?"

"No, tithead!" laughed Danny, "Make sure you're not caught!"

X

Mrs Bell wanted Alexander to go shopping with her that morning, so she sent him in to roust the Creeveys. Geoffrey had to be got to school, anyway.

Danny went with Alexander to ensure a proper _Scourgify!_

Mrs Bell gave the boys some toast and marmalade, and bundled her guests away.

"Please do come again," she said, "I'm sure Alexander would love to have you stay the odd night."

She made it clear that having too much of a good thing, was not a favoured policy in the Bell household.

They said their goodbyes to Alexander, Danny reminding him to go over David's phone number in ink before it vanished along with the magically-created pen that had written it down.

As the four boys walked down to the Floo point, Danny said: "Enjoy your stay, Col?" which translates as _Good sex with Alexander?_

"Good food, a good crap, and a couple of good scratches," said Colin, i.e. _A blow-job, a bum-shag, and two wanks._

"Enjoy your stay, Dan?" asked Colin.

"Good food, Col!"

"No!" said Dennis, "You are a slut, Dan!"

"Not a cock-slut, though," said Geoffrey.

"The parents are hard work," said Danny.

"Yeah makes you realise how lucky we are," said Colin, "Which reminds me: you're a parent yourself. What's it like?"

Danny talked about his little Boris and Pavel and their life at Yorosk. He told his brothers about the twins' childhood and how they drew strength from each other and how he and Brian were proud that the twins had selected them to be their father and father.

"Will they be at Novorossisk?" asked Colin.

"Of course; and they're longing to meet you too."

"What are your immediate plans? Are you coming to Brum?"

"No. I have to do some thinking. But first I must ask you about stones."

"Two each," said Dennis.

"I was hoping for three each," said Danny, "have either of you come across any unusual stones in your lives?"

"Can't think of any," said Colin, "You don't mean the Philosophers' Stone? Harry destroyed it, or something, the year before I went to Hogwarts."

"I did miss you," said Dennis.

"Like I miss both of you," said Geoffrey.

"Not for the next ten weeks," said Dennis.

"Anyway, if you can think of any special stones, let me know," said Danny.

They parted at the Floo Point.

"See you soon!" said Colin.

"See you soon!" said the other two.

"As soon as I can," said Danny.

One by one he hugged his brothers before they vanished into the green smoke

Goodbyes were awful; and also, he was a bit dispirited about the prophecy: he had found one stone, but drawn a blank with the Creeveys; and he didn't have a clue as to what he had to do to find his own stone.

There was also a horrible feeling at the back of his mind that the whole business might be one of these time-wasting prophecies that Gulley had talked about.

What could he do? He must do something.

Well . . . if he couldn't find the stones, he could hunt up the stories behind them, and the best place to do that was Hogwarts library.

—CHAPTER SIX — _Hogwarts in Summer_

On Danny's last visit to Hogwarts, rain had been either present or imminent, but today's sky was of a blue, broken only by the vapour of aeroplanes.

He broke his journey at the beautiful cities of Durham and Edinburgh, taking a ten-minute walk around each.

He walked, visible, up the drive and into the castle.

There was an eerie silence: corridors and classrooms no longer rang with the babble of children, the drone of teachers, or the cacophony of inefficiently-performed spells.

He went first to Filch's office, and found him looking at the crossword in a confiscated _Hippogriff_ comic.

"Jorrocks!" he said, "You were expelled."

"Professor Umbridge said I could come back."

"Is Professor Umbridge coming back too?" asked Filch, his eyes turning towards a stack of canes leaning against the wall.

"When it can be arranged, I believe," said Danny, knowing that this was indeed true, reading _never_ for _when_.

"Why have you come back in the vacation?" ask Filch, suspiciously, "The orphans and what-nots were sent to the seaside yesterday."

Mrs Norris hissed from the corner at the mention of orphans.

"I was to report to the Duty Head of House immediately."

"That's Professor Flitwick today. I would say mind how you go, but the ghosts have all gone to torment the soul of someone called James Ogilvy, and Peeves has gone to something called a Jazz Festival—he goes every year, but no-one ever notices him.

"While you're here, Jorrocks: _Cloud ran from this?_ Eight letters, something—"

"_Cauldron_," said Danny. See you."

He found Professor Flitwick in his office, and told him of his need to consult the library.

"Madam Pince is away, Jorrocks," said the Professor, "Her Patronus will allow you access, with a note from me."

He scribbled a note, and Danny hastened to the library.

He was greeted by a four-yards-long silvery crocodile, which turned towards him with an aggressive-sounding, hissing cough.

He took this as a good omen: it looked to be an Egyptian crocodile.

He held out Professor Flitwick's note, and the Patronus snatched it from his hand, with a fearsome snap of its jaws, and retreated to a corner.

He spent the next two hours combing the Egyptology books—first the open section, and then the restricted books.

He knew his way about, as he had previously spent a long time here hunting for information on Osiris.

He found plenty on stones—stones for building; stones for inscribing; and gemstones: Amazonite, Amethyst and other quartzes, Carnelian, Emerald, Fluorite, Garnet, Haematite, Lapis Lazuli, Malachite, Peridot, Serpentine, Turquoise.

His head was spinning with stones, but nowhere was there a reference to four special ones, and nothing that looked like Alexander's black stone.

Feeling slightly dispirited, he gave up and went down to the kitchens, where the house-elves, as enthusiastic as ever, tried to overload him with a hot and cold buffet.

Gratefully, he took a plateful of delicacies and a glass of pumpkin juice on to the lawn and lunched leaning against a great beech tree.

On the way back to the castle, he noticed a movement by the greenhouses, and swerved in that direction.

A figure in a stained and ragged brown robe was doing something horticultural.

As Danny got nearer, the figure resolved itself into an interesting-looking young man.

His pace quickened, and he entered the boxed garden where the young man was working.

"Hello!" said Danny.

X

The young man turned and Danny's heart thumped as he recognised him: the tall young man was Damian, Harry Potter's boyfriend.

Like Danny and Harry, Damian had untidy hair, though rather more mousey.

His face—interesting rather than handsome—displayed full lips, rounded cheeks and—most stunningly—eyes of a green hue that Danny had never seen or imagined.

Damian smiled, and said "Hello."

Danny could see what Harry saw in him: apart from his obvious physical attractions, he gave one an impression of honesty, reliability and integrity. This was someone who would stick by his friends.

Despite Danny's admiration, he was surprised to see Damian; and, in the current climate, surprise was always a close neighbour to worry.

"What are you doing her?" he asked, "You're a Muggle."

"I work here; I'm Herbology Assistant, working for Professor Sprout. I'm in my first week."

"Where is Professor Sprout?"

"She's on holiday with her friend, Gloria.

"Wow! Thrown in at the deep end!"

"It's not that bad," said Damian, with a beguiling smile, "She pops back every day to see if I need help; and looking after magical plants is quite easy at this time of year: as you can see, it's mainly weeding."

He indicated a bonfire that he was working on.

"I suppose Harry Potter got you the job?" said Danny.

"No I've never met him. Professor Dumbledore offered me the job on Professor Sprout's recommendation."

Alarmed by the initial bare-faced lie, Danny relaxed when he heard the name _Dumbledore_; and he remembered that he had seen Damian and Professor Sprout on very friendly terms.

"Do you not recognise me?" asked Danny.

"No . . . Oh, yes! You talked to me in Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day. I didn't recognise you because you've grown a huge amount."

"I had actually seen you before," twinkled Danny.

"When was that?"

"When Harry and Professor Sprout went into Hogsmeade to meet up with you—they same Harry that you've never met."

Damian gaped.

"I must confess that I spied on you, and when Harry took you inside his Invisibility Cloak, I listened to what you were doing."

"Er . . ." said Damian.

"He sucked you off with a thumb up your bum," continued Danny, "I was wanking myself silly."

"B—but we never saw you."

"There's more than one Invisibility Cloak in the world, you know."

"Don't tell anyone please!" said Damian, "I'm not bothered about the sex, but no-one must know that me and Harry are friends."

"On Professor Dumbledore's advice, I suppose."

"Yes, but what were you doing spying on us? Was it sexual interest?"

"That was a pleasant spin-off. My main aim was the protection of Harry Potter."

"You must be . . . you're not . . . you couldn't be Danny Jorrocks?"

"The very same."

"Professor Dumbledore told me about you: you left in February, but you've been back several times to save Harry from his enemies. But the Professor said you were a powerful and super-intelligent wizard, and you don't look like one—well maybe a bit now, but you were such a tiny scrap of a thing when we met."

"I suppose the Professor told you about me because he wanted you to know I was a friend, in case I turned up again; I wish he'd told me about you: I nearly had a heart attack when you said you didn't know Harry; I thought you were a honey-trap."

Damian laughed: "That wasn't super-intelligent: If I were a honey-trap, Harry would be in Azkaban or worse by now!"

"Yeah, yeah! I was a thicko. When are you seeing him again?"

"Not till September, I'm afraid."

"You must be suffering. Please feel free to relieve yourself with me. I'd welcome your willy inside either of my orifices—or just a hand-job, if you prefer."

Damian was interested: "Are you gay then, Danny?"

"Who's the gayest person you know?"

"That's easy: me!"

"I assure you that I'm a million times gayer than you!"

"You're on then; shall we do it now? We can go in one of the offices."

"Too many distractions. You'd be thinking about getting back to work; and I'd be thinking about getting back to the library. When do you finish here?"

"I can finish at four o'clock; and we could go to my room."

"Sounds brilliant. I'll see you at the front door."

"OK, Danny."

"See you, Damian."

X

After an hour's further study in the library, Danny was no nearer finding relevant material.

He decided to investigate the, hopefully absent, Snape's library.

The password had not changed, so he had no need of his Cracker Charm.

He knew his way around these books as well, and didn't take long to confirm that all the stones mentioned were the wrong sort of stones.

However, he did find, in the frieze surrounding a wall-painting of a Pharaoh, a sketchy and stylised depiction of a number of people fleeing in panic from some dark, floating figures, which could conceivably be Dementors.

Proceedings were being observed by a vague crocodile-headed figure.

Unfortunately, the book's commentary on the painting dealt solely with the main subject, and did not mention the perimeter.

Danny eidetically memorised the painting, and went upstairs to the front door to wait for Damian.

While he was there, he mentally reviewed the day's events, and received a pleasant jolt when the phrase _the sorrowful house of travelling_ came into his mind.

Surely, this was Mr Bell's Scouring cart—Alexander had certainly been sorrowful at the time.

So he was on the right track in the quest to decode the prophecy.

It might, in the end, prove useless, but Danny was determined to finish the job.

He had confirmed where one stone had been found. He _must_ find out about: _the lonely house of learning_; _the field of pleasure_; and _the joyful house of learning_.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he jumped at Damian's "Hi, Danny!"

"Hi, Damian!"

"You still on for it?"

"Yeah."

"Sure?"

"Course I'm sure! Let's go to your room."

"It's in Staff Quarters; on the seventh floor."

"I know," said Danny, remembering that wonderful Sunday afternoon when ten horny boys had visited Staff Quarters to relieve their tensions with a game of _Indoor Quidditch_.

They started climbing the stairs, but after a couple of floors, Danny stopped.

"Sentimental reasons," he said, "Can we go to my old dorm instead?"

"Yes, of course."

They went to Gryffindor Tower, where the Fat Lady was wearing sunglasses.

"That's an anachronism," said Danny.

"Summer holidays care nothing for epochs," said the Fat Lady; then: "Special staff privileges."

The portrait hole swung open.

"Wow, the Headmaster gave you free access to Gryffindor!" said Danny.

"Yeah, and he's giving Harry free access to my room."

They crossed the common room and ascended to the second floor.

Five beds were made up, one being decorated with photos of Danny.

Touchingly, Danny's bedside table bore a vase of flowers, five days old and beginning to wilt.

The remembered fragrances of teenage boys, were missing; replaced by lavender and beeswax.

Danny and Damian stripped and stood looking at each other.

Damian was tall and gangly. Danny guessed that he had never had puppy-fat, but now, at the age of twenty-two or twenty-three, had lost a little of his skin's tautness, and would, in the next few years, continue a slow journey towards chubbiness.

His skin was creamy-white, with a light freckling that reminded Danny of Seamus, though Damian's hair was mousey rather than red.

Beneath Danny's eyes, Damian's willy pumped its way up to a full erection—six inches of English manhood, demanding Danny's attention; but not before Danny had surveyed the rest of Damian's body.

A clot of dark pubic hair, a few wisps around the nipples, and a glimpse of dense oxter-hair represented the only foliage on Damian's body.

The youth fell short of the ideal manly figure of Adrian Pucey: his legs were poorly-shaped; his hips were as wide as his shoulders; his movements were clumsy—but well-controlled on the football field, as Danny would learn in years to come.

Notwithstanding these imperfections, Damian was immensely attractive to Danny—indeed his imperfections added to his endearing quality.

Damian took the initiative, drawing Danny into a kiss and cuddle.

As their tongues played against each other, Danny squeezed Damian's bum. It was like squeezing a rubber ball.

Danny felt a rush of sexual urgency.

Still squeezing, he broke off the kiss and glided down, to have a suck at Damian's unusually large nipples.

They tasted of salt and honey: Damian had been hard at work all day.

Sinking to his knees, Danny took Damian's willy into his mouth.

The first touch had been of moist velvet, but that soon vanished as Danny's saliva washed over the glans.

He worked with lips, tongue, head and suction, while wanking himself with one hand and fumbling Damian's bumhole—also unusually large—with the other.

He was rewarded with detonations of cum repeatedly striking the inside of his mouth, while his own cum spattered a carpet which must have been well-used to such matters by now.

Damian reached for his robe, took out his cigarettes, and lit up.

They lay on Danny's bed.

"Thanks Damian," said Danny, "Harry's a lucky boy."

"Not as lucky as me."

"It was kind of the Headmaster to bring you to Hogwarts; but why does he want you and Harry to keep your friendship secret?"

"He thinks there's a mystical link between Harry and me. He doesn't understand it, but thinks it may be vital to Harry sometime in the future. For the moment he doesn't want Harry's enemies to know that there is any connection between us."

"How did you meet Harry?"

"We were neighbours for years without meeting—not surprising since I'm seven years older—and then one day he knocked me down when he was running from bullies."

"Dudley, Piers and the others, I suppose?"

"Yes. Did Harry tell you?"

"Only a bit. I thought I'd look Harry up last summer. I didn't know where he lived, but I knew his best friend was called Damian Fay, I found your house and your sister told me where Harry's was. As it turned out, he was away."

"Yes, the Dementor affair."

"Meanwhile, you were swanning around the moors up here."

"And I met you; and you knew who I was."

"Amazingly I didn't: in my astonishment and joy that Harry had a lover, I'd forgotten all about the earlier Damian. It's maybe not my business, but do you think you and Harry will be life-partners?"

"Yes, but seven years' difference in ages is a long time with Harry only sixteen, so it'll be a few years before he can decide. Now it's my turn to be nosy: what are you looking so hard for in the library? I'll understand if it's secret."

"It is a secret, but I'll tell Harry's friend. I'm looking for information about a stone."

"Oh, there's plenty of stone at Hogwarts!"

"Have you seen any unusual stone?"

"Can't think of any. Is it hidden, or something?"

"I don't know, but it may be important; and I need to find two more, and that could be even more important."

"That's easy," said Damian, "Just take a trip to the mountains."

"I might find one of the three there because one of them is supposed to find _me_."

"Oh dear!" laughed Damian, "If it's to do with fate, you could go to the middle of the ocean and find it; if not, you'd better use your noddle and go round the most likely places."

"I know; sometimes you have to grope your way through life."

"Life's full of riddles."

Danny laughed: "Here's a riddle for you, Damian:

_The bonfire is cold_

_The tiger is hot_

_The words have been told_

_The pit's seeking what?_"

"Say it again."

Danny did so.

Damian thought for some seconds, then laughed.

"Got it!" he said, then thought for a bit, and recited:

"_My cigarette's fluff_

_My penis is willing_

_We've talked quite enough_

_Your bumhole wants filling!"_

"Good shooting" said Danny, and draped himself, bum upwards, over the side of the bed.

Damian was quickly on his feet and bending over Danny, with the tiger's nose nudging the pit.

Damian was much smaller than Adrian, but just as careful and gentle in pushing his way into boys.

It took a long time before he was far enough inside to start moving gently backwards and forwards.

Danny was loving it. He'd been missing out on his Kick-starts.

Besides, he was being pleasured—and energetically pleasured now—by Harry Potter's lover.

He felt as though some part of the souls of his dorm-mates David, Barry, Stephen and Nicholas were possessing him, as their bodies had so often possessed him in this room.

Then he felt part of Harry's soul brushing his own.

There was definitely a mystical link between Damian and Harry.

Damian thrashed harder, and again climaxed at the same time as Danny.

A fabulous physical and mystical experience; Professor Dumbledore must have sensed the connection between Damian Fay and Harry Potter when he brought Damian into Hogwarts.

Damian lit up again and said: "How about staying the night?"

"Can't, said Danny, "There are a couple of things that need my attention."

"Saving Harry Potter?"

"Not from so-called Lord Voldemort; but maybe from other possible threats."

"Oh no! You're not telling me that there's others after him too?"

"I said possible threats."

"Can I help?"

"Not today. Probably not till September the First. Then give Harry all the support and love and comfort and empathy you can. He has an awful destiny, and goodness knows what terrible challenges to face. He has good friends, but if Professor Dumbledore is right, you may be his most powerful friend."

"Support, love, comfort, empathy," Damian said, ticking them off on his fingers, "I think I should be able to manage that."

He grinned: "The end justifies the means and the means justify the end!"

Danny laughed: "That's right: you two will be a manifestation of the abstraction that Harry's fighting for."

"Bloody hell, Danny! How old are you?"

"Fourteen, and I've got a lot of hard work behind me."

"I am pleased we met!" said Damian, giving Danny a hug, "Now, if you won't spend the night here, how about keeping me company at supper?"

"Willingly!"

The boy and the man went downstairs and sat at the staff table with Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey. The conversation was mainly Damian pumping the Professor about the uses of magical and secular plants for Charms, as opposed to Potions.

Danny learnt a lot, and was surprised and impressed by Damian's eagerness and aptitude. This man was clearly a Herbological phenomenon.

The house-elves, as ever, did them proud, finishing with a supreme treacle tart.

Danny commented on this and Damian said: "Funny thing. Every main course is different, but the pud's always treacle tart."

"Not funny at all," laughed Danny, "It's Harry's favourite, so they provide it every night in case he shows up. Harry's very popular with the house-elves."

"The psychic situation of house-elves is interesting," said Professor Flitwick, "Servility is inherently immoral, but how can it be immoral here, when these beings can obtain complete happiness only by being servile? And yet they are capable of moral judgements of their own, including their admiration of Harry Potter."

"There are deep questions here," said Danny, "What is existence? What is happiness? How should we live our lives?"

"Questions that we have no answers for in this life," said the Professor, "We can only go from birth to death, embracing what we think are moral truths, and going pragmatically from day to day."

"Do you think Voldemort has ever thought about moral truths?" asked Danny.

"Not in the least; and that is perhaps the cause of what will, no doubt, be his ultimate futility."

They were all silent for a time before moving on to the more pragmatic topic of the coming term's intake of first-years.

At the end of the meal, Danny said goodbye to Professor Flitwick and wandered outside with Damian.

"Before you go, Danny," said Damian, "Could you do me a favour, please?"

"You are a hot, hot man," laughed Danny, "There's only one person I know who has to have so much, so often; and he's ten years younger than you."

"No, it's not that: I wondered if you could spare a spell to light my bonfire. These magical plants are the devil to light with Muggle matches."

"Of course."

They walked to the Herbology garden where Danny soon had the bonfire reduced to a heap of ash.

"Shall I get rid of the ash for you?" asked Danny when the last glowing embers had died.

"No, for goodness' sake!" said Damian, "Professor Sprout would murder me. The ash needs to be mixed with Dragon dung and it becomes a powerful multi-use fertiliser."

"Well, at least I can do the mixing for you."

"Again no; it needs to be done carefully by hand."

"Let me help with that; I must do something!" said Danny.

Damian brought out two rakes and they raked the ashes to a thin layer over a wide area. Then they carefully, and evenly, dropped dung granules, one at a time, waiting after each granule for the little blue flash that showed that the magic mixture was taking.

"What do we do now?" asked Danny.

"Nothing," said Damian, "It stays outside for a day or so to weather."

"Then I'll be on my way Damian."

"The entire Herbology Department will welcome you back whenever you manage to visit."

"See you soon, then; and respects to Professor Sprout."

"Okay. See you, Danny."

They embraced and Danny went inside the castle to catch the Floo to the HQ of his father's company.

Before facing the ordeal of the Portkey, he sat down to review matters.

He hadn't found a stone, but he had met Harry's Damian and he had tracked down an illustration from Ancient Egypt that appeared to show Dementors.

The crocodile-headed figure he had no difficulty in placing as Sobek—a god associated with Power, Fertility and—most promisingly—Protection.

He spent quite a long time racking his brain for a possible connection between Sobek and the stones—or the stone singular, he thought ruefully, as he examined Alexander's stone yet again.

Then, only the night staff being present, he hunted out a Portkey and travelled directly to Yorosk.

—CHAPTER SEVEN — _The Togetherness Project_

The Portkey landed him in the entrance hall of Yorosk Castle.

There was no-one to greet him, but an emergency bucket was always left there—a bucket which, just for once, he didn't need.

He crept upstairs, and into his bedroom.

By the dim light of the corridor, he saw the twins sleeping in a close top and tail, their arms embracing the brotherly feet.

In his own bed was Wonderful Brian, sleeping diagonally with limbs asprawl: he must be trying to make sure that Danny couldn't slip into bed without disturbing him.

Nevertheless, when Danny slid a leg under Brian's leg, and his body under Brian's arm, the boy remained deep in sleep.

It had been a busy two days, interspersed with two interrupted nights. He was glad to be in his own bed and went to sleep promising himself a lie-in in the morning.

It was not to be, of course: at half past seven, the bell sounded and Danny woke up to find himself engulfed by the other three.

After the initial scuffle, Brian, though he knew that Danny couldn't pass on any dangerous information, said: "How'd it go?"

"Mixed," said Danny, "Sorry, can't say more."

"Lips are free, then."

And Brian resumed his deep kiss.

After breakfast, Danny asked Professor de Castro for a private word.

They talked in the Professor's office.

"There are two things I'd like to talk to you about," said Danny, "Both about Kryuchkov—one specific and one general."

"You have my full attention, Daniel."

"Firstly, Kryuchkov has learnt about a traditional Siberian prophecy that refers to four stones of power, and possibly prophecy, probably to do with Dementors, which are supposed to have landed on Britain."

"You are aware, are you, Daniel, that the vast majority of stones from the Other Places have no significance to power or anything else and contain no prophecies at all; and of those few genuine prophecies, the vast majority are useless?"

"Yes, but Kryuchkov thinks that he's onto the real thing. So do I; and moreover, I think that it's something to do with me and my Hogwarts friends."

Danny told the Professor about the two rhymes and the frieze, and showed him Alexander's stone. He presented his analysis, and the Professor thought for some time.

Eventually, the Professor said: "I'm convinced too; everything fits; but I cannot understand why the other three stones have not already come to you and the Creevey boys—when sets of magical objects become manifest, the manifestations are usually close in time, and sometimes close in space.

"What do you think we should do?"

"As for finding the stones, I cannot think of anything else _to_ do. But when it comes to their use, I have a number of contacts throughout the Middle East, and I will set them to make discreet enquiries."

"Very discreet, please," said Danny, "Kryuchkov must surely have his own agents searching for the same thing."

"Madam Sosostris, keeper of the library at Alexandria, is a valiant and honest witch. She will no doubt withhold from Kryuchkov—may already have withheld from him—information which she would willingly divulge to me or my agents—and only if she is confident of complete secrecy."

"Sounds good."

"There is still extant, I believe, a Muggle cult of Sobek. I will also have my agents investigate this."

"Excellent."

"Now, Daniel, you said you had a second, general, topic."

"Yes. Whatever else Kryuchkov may be scheming, we can be sure that he will come after the nine boys—nine traitors as he no doubt sees them—who have defected from him."

"Even Kryuchkov, with all his powers, could not break in to Yorosk."

"So they're safe as long as they stay here—which makes them as much prisoners as they were at the Butyrka."

"There is no help for it, though we could resort to Geography and move them to another part of the world."

"Why should we have to run? Why should we not be able to travel freely about Russia, or anywhere else in Europe or Asia? We were planning, for example, on holidaying at Novorossisk."

"I think that, with Kryuchkov at large, that would be unwise."

"Not necessarily."

"You obviously have something in mind, Daniel."

"I have: with four weeks' intense training in Group Magic, we could be as well-defended against the Dark Arts as Yorosk itself."

"But Daniel, such training would take months, if not years!"

"That's what the books say, but the books have never had to consider a group such as hours: we are fifteen totally gay boys who share complete love and trust, one for another.

"Before our arrival, Pavel and Boris shared the required Psychomystical bond; Nicolai and Pyotr were well on the way, as were Brian and myself.

"In the last six or seven weeks, things have moved fast: Brian and me are in some form of communion with the twins—to the degree, anyway, in which we are sometines sharing thoughts; Alexei is moving towards a triplex with his brother and Nicolai—with Yuri nudging at the periphery; and Konstantin—not yet a man, but able to achieve moments of joy—has sent flashes to all of us."

"I'm impressed, but even so . . ." said the Professor, and thought deeply for a while.

Danny did not interrupt the other, and let his thoughts idle: they were erotic thoughts.

It was several hours since his round with Damian, and his cock was eager for action. It was nearly a week since he had bummed Brian—longer than at any time since he had so famously deflowered his loved one in the _Ukraina_. Body and soul he was yearning for Brian's back door . . . the boy's eyes smiling into Danny's . . . his arms tenderly pulling Danny towards him . . . his bony legs draped over Danny's shoulders . . . the snug fit of Brian's bumcheeks into Danny's groin, as his cock reached far up into Brian's rectum . . .

"I've got it!" said Professor de Castro.

_So have I!_ thought Danny, but said: "I knew you'd come up trumps, Sir!"

"Behemoth!"

"The cat: but surely he is not totally of this universe?"

"Indeed. However, he is one of seven brothers who have been adepts of Group Magic from infancy, so, more than the mere mechanics of the charms, he is capable of passing on the true philosophy . . . though how good a teacher he might make. . . .

Danny laughed: "He'll make an entertaining teacher, anyway."

"And that gives me another idea," said Professor de Castro, "I will leave to see Behemoth at once and, if possible, consult with his master. Professor Wolland might be able to give me some pointers towards the four stones."

"Yes, that's ace!"

"Now, would you mind bringing Professor Gogol so that the three of us can work out the details?"

Danny ran and fetched the Professor, who had been just beginning an intermediate Charms lesson with the twins, the Kalinov brothers, Semyon and Veniamin.

Professor de Castro explained matters.

When Professor Gogol heard that the proposal involved Group Magic, he was startled: "Really, Sir! Is this possible? Is this wise?"

"Anton," replied Professor de Castro, "I know the subject is distasteful to you, but these boys are all homosexuals, and—"

"They are too young; I told you that when I accepted the post."

"Nevertheless, Anton, even if it's only the case that they _think_ they are homosexual, we have here fifteen gifted young wizards who have formed strong bonds, and this is an extraordinary opportunity to advance a topic which may prove invaluable in fighting Dark Magic in years to come."

"Of course, Headmaster."

Professor de Castro looked almost enthusiastic. Danny guessed that the prospect of producing a paper—or even a book—was enticing.

"For the short term, though, we are setting ourselves a target of four weeks."

"Four weeks!"

"During that period," the Headmaster continued imperturbably, "you will instruct the best-bonded boys and I will instruct the rest. A third professor may join us temporarily to teach the Old Magic aspects, so that the boys may have a strong inner knowledge of _why_ they're doing things, as well as _what_ they're doing.

"I have to go to Africa now to try and contact our third professor. Anton could you please spend the morning mugging up and arranging syllabuses and books? Daniel will explain to the boys what is going on."

"Yes, Headmaster."

Professor Gogol was off, definitely on the side of the project now.

"Before I go, Daniel, I have to tell you that homosexual aspects do indeed raise a complication, but not one that has occurred to Professor Gogol."

"I can't think why, Sir."

"You have read _Ritual Magic in Defence of Righteousness_ by Blaby Stumpwistle?"

"Yes, Sir."

"In the chapter entitled _Bands of Brothers_, the author deals with certain physical practices—practices which the students here may or may not get up to—it's none of my business.

"He makes it quite clear that—do you remember the passage?"

"No, I'm sorry, it's a year since I so much as looked at any of Stumpwistle's work."

"He makes it quite clear that anything shared between participating wizards is _For External Application Only_."

"I understand, Sir. I remember now: while learning the hidden mysteries of Group Magic, everything that is taken into the body is important. He also says that cucumbers and milk puddings should be avoided; also bath-salts."

"Yes, indeed. Capital! I'll go immediately and leave my students to your tender mercies."

X

When the Professor had left, Danny did not immediately join his friends: instead, he sat quietly, reviewing a table in his mind:

Semyon 9 No

Veniamin 11 Org No

Boris 12 No

Brian 12 No

Pavel 12 No

Alexei 13 Org Clear

Konstantin 13 Org No

Daniel 14 Org Full, Big

Ivan 14 Org Full

Pyotr 14 Org Full

Yefim 14 Org Clear

Nicolai 15 Org Full

Sergei 15 Org Full

Ilya 16 Org Full, Big

Yuri 16 Org Full, Big

He remembered that he had, on a few occasions, reflected on the merits of big cums. He also remembered a phrase from the estimable Stumpwistle: _The Power of the Seed_.

He had a feeling that, in the Sexual Magic that would be needed in the next four weeks, there would be special rôles for himself, Ilya and Yuri: boys who had high-volume, multi-spurt orgasms.

There was also, perhaps, something special about Veniamin and Konstantin—especially Konstantin—with their intense, pre-pubescent orgasms; and Alexei and Yefim, with their clear, unmilky cum, untainted as yet by the influence of their testicles.

He smiled as he thought of the Creeveys: Colin, Geoffrey and Dennis fitted respectively into his three special categories.

With a twitching willy, he collected all the students from three classrooms and assembled them in the common room.

"Dear friends and lovers," he announced, "We've had six weeks living at Yorosk. Is everyone happy here?"

There was a loud chorus of positive answers.

"Somehow, I thought so," grinned Danny, "We've got here a safe, happy island of peace and love.

"As you know Special K has escaped from the Muggle prison, but let me put your minds at rest: we are still completely safe here. Yorosk is protected by Magic, Ancient and Modern. Special K and his men couldn't cross our boundaries; he couldn't even send us a dung bomb.

"But in four weeks we're going on a seaside holiday, where the protection will be less.

"We're obviously not going to cancel our trip because of the contemptible activities of Dark Wizards, so in the next four weeks, we're going to learn how to act together so as to produce a powerful defence against anything Special K can throw at us.

"We're going to learn Group Magic. How that works is: suppose me and Brian, say, each did a spell, _Stupefy!_ say, the result would be two _Stupefys_ of the same power—twice as good as one _Stupefy!_ of course, because the target has to avoid two spells, but not good enough to get through a good Shield Charm.

"Now, if me and Brain had a strong enough psychic link, we could combine our _Stupefys_ into a single spell many times as powerful.

"As an example Boris and Pavel, at the age of nine, and never having possessed wands, let alone having heard of wizardry, discovered the Disillusionment Charm.

"Twins, please show us Naughty Hedgehog."

On the streets, the twins would simply have lowered their trousers and pants, but here, with their parents and eleven other loved ones watching, they undressed completely before lying down and engaging in sixty-nine.

There were gasps of astonishment—not, Danny knew because of any perceived audacity in the act, but because, to most of the boys, the twins had become invisible.

To Danny, with his advanced wizard training, and strong bond with the twins, the twins appeared normal, apart from a slight blue aura outlining their forms.

"Can anyone see them?" he asked.

"I can," said Brian. "Slightly blurry."

"I can see a blur," said the tiny, dark Semyon.

"Okay, thanks, twins," said Danny.

The twins unlocked and became visible. Their willies had looked like snails before Naughty Hedgehog, but were now riding high and looking like a couple of little pencils.

"That's a good example of Group Magic," said Danny, "I hope we'll all be able to see Boris and Pavel through Naughty Hedgehog before too long."

"We never learned about Group Magic at Butyrka," said Yuri, "Why do you think that was."

"Group Magic can only be used to do Good or defend against Evil," said Danny, "The only way Dark Wizards can combine is by sharing a body, when, being Evil, they usually end up fighting each other."

Yuri was letting his straw-coloured hair grow long, and looked more like a Viking every day.

"Will we all have to do that?" asked Nick, "I'm not sure me and Semyon could reach!"

There was some giggling as Danny replied: "No, not at all. In fact it's totally banned."

The giggling changed to moans of disappointment.

"Don't worry it's not all bad," said Danny, "Sex will be very much part of the training. It's not a prerequisite for Group Magic, but it will be a great help: we are a group of gay boys, enjoying sex together, and full of love for each other. That gives us a tremendous start towards achieving Togetherness."

"So sex is Okay," said Yuri, "but mouths are out. What about bumming?"

"Also out," said Danny, "Let me explain:

"It all comes from the magical properties of semen. It's wonderful to produce, and wonderful to receive, but for the full magical benefits, it's no good just pumping it inside your lover: it has to be absorbed through the skin.

"So we will be mentally trying to achieve psychic unity with our partner while wallowing in the wetness that has been achieved through physical unity.

"You could still have bumming and sucking if you took it out before you came," said Nick.

"No good," said Danny, "You'd be losing the pre-cum—and that may turn out to be even more valuable because it's produced from the brain and not by physical stimulation."

"The bumming ban wouldn't apply to the younger ones," said Yuri.

"Agreed."

"Are fingers allowed?" asked Pyotr.

"Yes indeed," said Danny, "And mouths, except around willies. It's quite simple: anything can go anywhere, except that willies can't go in bums or mouths."

"We can still have a lot of fun, then," said Alexei.

"Yes, of course we can, Alyosha; talking of which, please stop rubbing yourself; and you Semyon and Sergei and anyone else who's doing it. Save it for the more intimate moments."

"I can't squirt yet," said Semyon.

"You're still getting pleasure, and sharing that pleasure—even if it's squirtless—is important."

"How will it work out in practice, Danny, darling?" asked Nick.

"I think the Headmaster will want morning and afternoon school to continue so that we can learn the non-sexual aspects."

"And the sexual aspects?" asked Yuri, "Do we have an orgy every morning and evening?"

"Yes please!" said Ilya.

"I don't think so," laughed Danny, remembering many happy orgies that had enlivened Hogwarts in the old days, "With fifteen people present, it'd be hard to focus on individuals. No, what I'd propose to start with, anyway, is that every night is a Pairs Night."

There was jubilation.

"I'm sorry for those of you who find it hard to get to sleep with someone else in the bed, but you can use your periods of wakefulness to try and think your way into your sleeping lover's dreams.

"Please, squirters, try and save your semen for your night-time partner.

"We have six non-squirters, and as they've got nothing to conserve, they can be on duty twenty-four hours a day. I suggest that we institute a Wank-of-the-Day after dinner, and the other fourteen boys try and connect mentally with him.

"For the rest of the morning, I'll try and teach you everything that I know, which won't take long, and then we'll split into three groups of five, trying, in a totally non-sexual way, to use physical intimacy to sense each other's feelings."

"But first!" said Ilya.

"What?"

"Toilet break!"

X

The morning went well, apart from an unwelcome interruption.

A tapping on the window heralded a huge, windswept owl with a letter addressed to Danny.

He ripped off the seal and found a clipping from the Daily Prophet:

_**OBLIVIATORS OUT IN FORCE AT MUGGLE PRISON**_

_The Ministry of Magic has confirmed that illegal magic was used to secure the escape of two prisoners from the Muggle prison in Brixton in the early hours of Monday._

_A reward of twenty Galleons is being offered, but is not likely to be claimed as the perpetrators and escapees are rumoured to have fled the country._

_A Ministry spokesman said "This was a major incident and the team handled it professionally. The Muggles believe that the cell window was destroyed as a result of over-exuberance at a Jelly Night which is a sort of Muggle Party."_

There was an accompanying note:

_Sorry, forgot to erase memory from Neville so Gordon knows all. It was Gordon himself. Allowed anon Muggle to hitch a ride. Staying on. Contact through London office._

So Kryuchkov now knew the prophecy from Pickwick's _Cornucopia_. This was not necessarily a disaster: it depended on how accurately, and how soon Kryuchkov interpreted it. Danny was quite hopeful on this: Kryuchkov, for all his wizarding powers, had proved himself to be spectacularly stupid at times.

Danny smiled at Gully's cheek: Kryuchkov had allowed Gully, the supposed Muggle Johns, to cling to the tail of his broom, not suspecting that his guest was a wizard—and, indirectly, an employee of Kryuchkov himself.

The biggest loser was Richard Arthur Johns, who was likely to pay dearly for his cruise.

Danny returned to his huddle and resumed his psychic quest until dinner time.

Professor de Castro had not returned, but Professor Gogol announced that he was full of ideas and would take all fifteen boys for the afternoon lesson.

The boys were full of ideas too: they were now on an intellectual and spiritual quest which involved lots of sex.

Of course, sex had been a large part of life at Yorosk, but now it was part of the core curriculum; and the first practical would come straight after dinner.

Danny assembled the boys in the common room.

"Welcome to Wank of the Day, episode one," he said, "The chosen wanker will sit in this chair, and the rest of us sit facing him. We must all try to feel what the wanker is feeling, rather in the way that you feel for an object that you're charming.

"Or maybe not. Our professors should be able to help us. Today we have to decide whether or not to make eye-contact, and whether or not to have physical contact.

"Well, at night, we will have physical contact, but no eye-contact, so let's reverse that for our daytime work."

Danny gave the boys more guidelines, the furniture was arranged, and the magic dice consulted.

The first wanker of the day turned out to be Pavel.

With a trill of glee, he disrobed for the second time that day, and leapt onto the chair.

His penis was already stiffening, and by the time he had moistened it with spittle, it was the tiny, but adamantine, shaft that Danny knew and loved.

Pavel started to rub his foreskin, creating flashes of pink like a kitten drinking milk.

He was looking at the boy on his far left.

Danny didn't know which of the boys it was, but he didn't look to see as, obeying his own instructions, he was concentrating mind and soul on Pavel.

Pavel gave it a minute, then shifted his gaze to the second boy . . . then the third.

Danny tried very hard to unite himself with Pavel, but received nothing more than a sensation of happiness.

But, when Pavel moved to the fifth boy, Danny knew it was Brian.

He could feel Brian's love for Pavel and his inclusion of Danny in that love, as if Brian and Danny were one soul.

He felt this even more strongly when Pavel looked into his own eyes; but now Boris was there too.

And when Pavel came to look at Boris, they were all four of them there—No! Just for a milli-second, there was only _one_ of them there.

Something good had happened.

He didn't know precisely—or even vaguely—what had happened, but a step forward had been made.

"Pavel, Boris, Brian," he said when the Wank of the Day was over, "Did you feel it?"

Yes, they had, and Boris could also feel Pavel's sore little pigeon.

"Oh Pavel," said Danny, "It's shutting your stable door, but we'll make it half a minute each from now on."

At some time during the proceedings, he had had to adjust himself. His willy, laid flat under his waistband was incredibly stiff and oozing stickiness.

"Anyone feel anything else?" asked Danny.

Alexei had felt Pyotr's protective love for his little brother; Nicolai had felt this too; Semyon and Veniamin had felt Brian's love for Danny.

"Anything else?" asked Danny.

"Yeah," said Ilya, "I swear I didn't touch my mickey, but I came in my pants.

"Don't waste it!" said Danny, "Get 'em off!"

Each boy went into Professor Gogol's class that afternoon with a little dab of moisture on the tip of his nose.

X

The Professor was as good as his word: he was indeed full of ideas, and spent the afternoon opening his students' minds to the possibility of opening their own minds in a fuller sense to others.

There was only one awkwardness: the Professor obviously found it difficult to accept that teenage boys could have sexual feelings, let alone gay feelings.

When it came to treating this subject—which would have been dealt with explicitly in some of the literature that he had doubtless been reading that morning—he fudged it: "And in this area, you will find that physical contact such as, er . . . holding hands will prove useful."

Danny wanted all the boys to know that sexual activity had academic blessing, and suggested: "Or the occasional cuddle, Sir?"

"Er, yes Daniel. Now, moving on . . ."

There was a stir of successfully-suppressed amusement as the boys wondered at the inhibitions of a wizard who was, in other respects, such an adventurous thinker.

The lesson finished at four o'clock.

Professor de Castro had returned and discussed matters with Danny in his office.

"So far, so good," he said, "I found Professor Wolland and, though the four stones meant nothing to him, he was confident that he could find whatever there was to be found.

"On the other matter, the Prince, Behemoth, agreed, in his whimsical manner, to visit us next week."

Danny told the Professor about Special K's extraction of his agent from Brixton Prison.

"I don't think we should be too worried," said the Professor, "In fact, it could be a good thing if the prophecies keep him distracted from doing other nasty things. He'll probably deduce that you're mentioned, but he won't be so stupid as to come after you."

"That's good," said Danny, "And I'll put my stone in Magical Escrow as an insurance."

"Excellent, Daniel. Now I'd better catch up with Professor Gogol."

"It was a brilliant afternoon, Sir. I'll see you later."

Daniel went to join his buzzing friends for tea.

When bedtime came, the Pairs Night—now designated as perpetual—was organised.

Danny was delighted to be paired with Yefim, as they'd never spent the night together before.

Yefim was a tall, mousey fourteen-year-old with a gaunt face. He never spoke about his life prior to Butyrka, but the general feeling among the boys was that he had suffered more than any of them, so whenever any of the boys passed near him, they made a point of giving him a touch, a squeeze, an encouraging word.

Like Sergei and Semyon, Yefim could not bear to sleep alone; but his terror of solitude extended to the daytime: even when going to the lavatory, he liked company.

He was quite scholarly and bookish but adored Quidditch and was Smerdyakov's best student.

They went to Yefim's room, kissed, took off some clothes, kissed again, took off the rest of their clothes, climbed into bed and kissed long and ardently, their rigid organs pressing romantically against their bodies.

"What do we do, Danny?" asked Yefim.

Danny had explained this to all the boys before they had gone to bed. He guessed that Yefim's question had been prompted by a fear of getting it wrong—not because he didn't want to embarrass himself, but because he didn't want to let the others down. He was a real Gryffindor!

"We don't need to do anything, darling Fima," he explained, giving Yefim a peck, "Just enjoy being together all night; merge into each other; feel each other's emotions; feel that we are fifteen boys: all together; all bound by love; all wanting everything for everyone."

"Mmm," said Yefim, guiding his hand onto his willy, which, Danny realised with a slight pang, was exactly the same size as Dennis Creevey's.

They fondled each other for a bit, then Danny moistened his fingers and started a tender and delicate wank.

Yefim was loving it.

Danny could sense the extreme pleasure that the boy was feeling, but he wasn't _inside_ the pleasure.

Yefim came with the release of quite a lot of fluid.

Danny mixed it with his own pre-cum and smeared some onto the boy's forehead, then some onto his own

Then he sat up astraddle of Yefim and let the boy wank him off.

Sex with a boy is always good but this copulation was boosted by something wonderful: Danny _knew_ that at this moment Alexei was rubbing himself hard against Danny's son Boris.

He could feel Alyosha's jubilance, and could feel it joined to his own as he splashed over Yefim's face, chest and tummy.

"Don't swallow any, Fima," he warned.

He wiped as much as he could from Yefim's face and onto his own genitalia.

He lay on his back and drew Yefim's head onto his chest.

He lay his sticky hand on Yefim's bottom . . . but not anywhere near the forbidden crack.

He whispered:

"Sleeping together, Fima . . . me and you . . . loving each other . . . being each other."

He was sharing things with Yefim . . . his best-beloved Brian was dreaming . . . the Kalinov brothers, in the arms of Konstantin and Sergei were dreaming . . . Konstantin himself was burnishing his way to another rhapsodic orgasm . . .

Danny was asleep. . . .

. . . In the morning, he woke up with the knowledge that Brian had woken up too; had found himself sucking Yuri's nipple; had felt a twinge of disappointment that it wasn't Danny's nipple; had rejoiced that he and Danny and Yuri were Together; and was currently inserting a dainty finger into Yuri's arsehole.

Danny had stirred in his sleep: he and Yefim were now face-to-face, and even as he realised this, Yefim woke and kissed him.

The boy rolled Danny onto his back, climbed on top, kissed deeply and started frotting against Danny's stomach.

In a short time, another sliver of clear goo was being smeared across their foreheads.

"I love you, Danny," said Yefim.

"I love you, but we don't _need_ to say it."

"I _like_ saying it. Me and Sergei and Vanya are always saying it."

"Good; say on!"

The boy wrapped a hand around Danny's willy.

Danny thought how randy, romantic and rollicking Yefim was—like most gay boy wizards.

Randy, romantic and rollicking: the three R's.

He remembered _Victorian People_. Hadn't the three R's meant something else?

He'd try and call it to mind later: for now his willy was stiff and demanding attention.

Soon he and wonderful Yefim would be once more anointed with Togetherness Juice.

Things had started well!

—CHAPTER EIGHT — _Colin Has Two Days Out_

Some days into the holiday, Colin and Dennis decided to try pony-trekking at Woodgate Valley Country Park, which was only ten miles south-west of their home.

They invited their two Muggle friends, but Tom was tied up with _The Missus_, so it was only Robert who accompanied them as they rode on the bus along Broad Street.

Robert had phoned his secret boyfriend, Pete, who lived thirty miles south of the park, and Pete had agreed to join them.

"Are you getting any, Robert?" asked Colin.

"A couple of times," replied the man, "Gotta make sure Tom's gonna be out before Pete comes over."

"Are you putting the snib on?" giggled Dennis.

"Yeah, yeah!"

"It'll be easier when Pete starts his next term," said Colin, "As long as he gets his own room somewhere."

"He's likely to be in a hall of residence, which is Okay—specially as he's got an excuse for me being there: he's giving me lessons in draftsmanship."

"Any good?"

"Good fun, anyway; I don't think I'll ever be another Michelangelo."

"Why doesn't he come Out?"

"No good: he doesn't think either of his parents could take it, and word would be sure to get back as there's no end of students in Brum with links to his family."

"Why don't you want Tom to know?"

"It doesn't seem fair having it off in our pad when Tom can't do the same as we agreed no women; besides, Tom might stop letting me screw his missus, and I really enjoy that; and, maybe one day, Tom'll say we can do threesomes."

Robert looked a bit wistful.

"Never mind, Rob," laughed Dennis, "You've got a good life, _plus_ cock and slit, _plus_ pony-trekking."

"Yeah, it _is_ a good life," said Robert, "plus you two and Tom!"

"Plus Geoff!" said Dennis.

"He's worse than the Gestapo!" laughed Robert, "Were you two as precocious at that age?"

"Yeah," said Colin, "But we were only two years apart, so we could learn together, without having to give new acquaintances the third degree."

The conversation shifted to pony-trekking prospects, and the journey went very quickly.

As they got off the bus—they were upstairs on a double-decker—Colin noticed two slightly unusual men who had travelled with them. One, who was quite old, was dressed in a grey suit, with collar and tie underneath. The other, in his thirties and fat, was in shirtsleeves—a brightly-coloured sleeveless shirt.

There was something not quite right about the men. It wasn't just that they didn't look like the sort of people likely to take a bus ride to the Black Country on a summer's morning; nor that their clothes were foreign; nor their grey complexions.

The weirdest thing was that neither of them looked at the three definitely eyeworthy people leaving the bus.

Two people who were odd in similar ways and were behaving oddly in similar ways were surely connected.

Yet they were sitting a long way apart.

As they walked towards the park, Colin said: "See these two weirdos?"

"What two weirdos?" said Robert.

"Do you think they were undercover agents?" asked Dennis, meaning were they wizards.

That was it, of course!

"Probably, Den" he said, "We'll have to watch out for them."

There was probably no threat, but in these times: _Constant Vigilance!_

X

Pete was waiting for them at the park.

They each had half an hour riding a pony which was being led by a wholesome-looking young woman whose conversation consisted entirely of the benefits that would come from a one-hour tuition session.

"Are you on commission?" asked Pete cheekily.

They bought snacks from the caff and ate them sitting at one of the picnic tables.

"That's a big wood," said Dennis, "Quite like the wood in Sutton Park."

Colin knew what Dennis was thinking of: "I bet it's really secluded if you leave the footpaths," he said.

"Two people could hide in there and do _anything_ without being seen," said Dennis.

Colin suggested: "Why don't you two go for a walk?"

"What for?" asked Pete.

"Tell him Rob!" laughed Colin, "There's no need to get embarrassed about it."

"There's no need to get embarrassed about it, Pete," laughed Robert, "My jacksie's itching for your hotrod. I want to get screwed to oblivion."

He knelt on the ground, saying: "Oh Master Bradley! I beg you to bestow on me the miraculous gift of anal intercourse!"

Pete was laughing, but at the same time, concerned: "Get up!" he hissed, "People are watching!"

Colin looked around, saying: "No they're not; we're just four harmless students having a bit of fun."

As he turned back he accidentally dropped his paper napkin onto Pete's lap and had to scrabble a bit to retrieve it.

"Bloody hell, Rob!" he said, "It's like half a brick! You're in luck today, mate."

Pete was very stiff, and Colin had felt his willy twitch and his loins thrust at Colin's touch.

"Come on, Pete," said Rob.

"Too much risk," said Pete.

"We'll keep watch," said Colin.

Dennis decided it, saying loudly: "Let's go and see the wild birds."

"Yes," said Colin, "Now we've all had our sandwich turns."

"And now Colin's had a goose and found a wood pecker with his fly-catcher," giggled Dennis.

"Don't skylark, you two," said Robert, "This great tit wants a ruff shag from his dipper."

"And this wood cock's worried about a night in gaol," said Pete.

"Don't quail, plover-boy," said Robert

They set off happily down the Nature Trail and circuitously approached the largest area of woodland.

There were a number of paths through the wood.

The four of them found the area most remote from any paths. It was nicely concealed by foliage, but short of amenities: no convenient low-slung branch and the ground too damp and dirty for lying down.

"Looks like doggy position for you," said Colin.

"I wonder whether he'll find a pebble," said Dennis, as Robert lowered his kit and crouched on all fours.

Pete, as Colin had felt, was straining at the leash, and no sooner was Robert's attractive little bottom exposed, than his willy was nudging its target.

It is testimony to Robert's rent-boy heritage that Pete's penis, with no more lubrication than saliva, slid up his arsehole _without touching the sides_ as the Creeveys later agreed.

Robert had told Geoffrey about the desirability of it being _done properly_. Colin couldn't think of a less proper way of penetrating, so he wondered at the size of Robert's punters.

As it was, Robert gave only a mild whinny of pain and pleasure, followed immediately by a purred: "Do it, Pete! Yeah!"

As Pete's rather wobbly bum—Pete was not underfed—started pummelling Robert, Colin felt intense desire.

His willy was out in a trice and the concept of sticking it as hard into Pete as Pete had stuck his into Robert came to him.

He was put off less by the absence of preliminary formalities than by the fact that Robert would probably have collapsed under the additional weight.

Instead, Colin began a hard, urgent wank and, look-out duties forgotten, Dennis joined him.

It was Dennis, the last to start, who was the first to finish as, accompanied a yowl of pleasure, his little dribble of clear fluid reached downwards towards Pete's vibrating cheeks.

Colin followed shortly. He was a real manly comer now and his penis produced great geysers—especially when his balls were full, as they were today. Now, his generous, high-speed dollops more or less covered Pete's cheeks, much of the sticky milk making its way into the bumcrack as though seeking its true home.

Robert was third to come, and the Creeveys knelt down to see the lemon-coloured penis, rubbed by Pete's Queer's Reach-round, emit several little semi-congealed globules of cream.

Pete, despite his half-a-brick status, took some time to approach his pinnacle. When he did, it was with a dynamism that threatened to collapse Robert.

But the brothers lent him their shoulders to lean on, and Pete, with whoops of excitement, pumped his load into the only lover he had ever had.

They dressed quickly, conscious that watch-keeping had been dilatory, and someone might be along any minute.

"I'll have to wash my own pants," said Pete, "I daren't present these to Mum. Do you know, Colin, that your cum is boiling hot?"

Pete was losing his embarrassment about gay sex.

Robert drew him into a gentle, post-coital snog, and the brothers mirrored them.

Then they swapped, and Colin kissed Robert—very wet, very girly—and Pete—firm, masculine, with a beard that tickled.

"Your beard tickles," giggled Dennis.

"Don't tell Geoff!" said Robert.

Then it was time for goodbyes: firstly to Pete; and then, in the city centre, to Robert.

Colin and Dennis went home, and arrived just as an ebullient Geoffrey was sipping his after-school milk.

They told him about the pony-trekking, and promised to take him to Woodgate Valley Country Park as soon as possible.

X

After tea, the three brothers went up to the roof-garden, and sat in their favourite corner, sharing some quality-time,

Geoffrey was full of himself.

"Guess what happened today," he said.

"Your Headmistress declared end-of-term," said Colin.

"School dinner was badger fritters," said Dennis.

"No, silly!" laughed Geoffrey, "_Me and Keith Gillespie bummed each other!"_

"Wow!" said Dennis.

"Anyone else know about it?" asked Colin, evenly. He was worried: Muggles took this sort of thing seriously.

"No-one knows. We went in the old coal-store after dinner. We blocked the door, but no-one goes there anyway."

"Was it good, Geoff?" asked Dennis.

"Yeah! He bummed me and it was good; then I bummed him and it was _fabulous_!"

"Geoff, if you get caught, it could be serious," said Colin, "Not just moving you to separate schools but the Muggles would make enquiries. Ministry Obliviators might be needed. Next time, invite him to ours and you can do it in the bedroom, with me and Den on guard outside."

"There won't _be_ a next time," said Geoffrey, glumly, "Keith didn't like it and said he couldn't see the point."

"Can't say I'm sorry," said Colin.

"But listen; come here," said Geoffrey, his voice dropping to a whisper.

They formed a huddle, and Geoff whispered: "When I was bumming Keith, everything went nice and—you won't believe this—_I wanted to bite his neck_!"

"That's just friendliness, Geoff," said Colin.

"Is it like that squelchy kissing that Robert and Pete do?"

"I don't know. It might be. I'm too young to know."

Colin hoped that the broad hint would end the topic, but he reckoned without Dennis, who asked: "Did you and Keith do squelchy kissing, Geoff?"

"Get lost! He'd've killed me; I mean, I wouldn't _ever_ want to do that!"

They went in to play until it was time for Geoffrey to go to bed, but there was an interruption: an owl for Colin.

It was from Alexander. The Bells were going on holiday, and Colin had one day remaining if he wanted Alexander and him to see each other.

It was decided that Colin would go over to Stratford in the morning and Dennis would go to visit Aunt Dora with Mum and Audrey.

"And I'll go to school," said Geoffrey, glumly.

They carried on playing, but there was a second interruption: the Muggle telephone rang and Mrs Creevey said: "It's for you, Colin. You're a popular boy tonight."

Colin picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"Hello, it's Robert."

"Hi, Rob."

"I wonder if I could have your stones?"

"What do you mean?"

"I wonder if I could have your stones?"

Colin lowered his voice:

"You mean balls?"

Colin had decided that this was Robert's unusual way of asking Colin to have sex with him.

"Your stones," said Robert.

"Have you been drinking?"

"I wonder if I could have your stones?"

"We'll come and see you. Not tomorrow; the day after."

"I wonder if—"

Colin hung up.

They discussed Robert's weirdness and eventually decided that he'd probably had a drink, fallen asleep and had a bad dream.

Later, it was Geoffrey's bedtime, and his brothers saw him into his pyjamas and into bed.

The three of them sat huddled up so that Colin could read the bedtime story.

But Geoffrey had other things on his mind.

"You know about wanting to bite Keith's neck?"

_Oh no!_ thought Colin, but said: "Yeah?"

"Well, I've thought about it, and it wasn't so much _biting_ as _sucking_."

"I told you Geoff," said Colin, "It doesn't mean a thing; it's just a friendly impulse."

"You don't think it means I'm gay and really wanted to suck his willy?"

"Not in the least, Geoff, darling."

"If I _had_ sucked his neck, would it have left a red mark for the teachers to notice, even if I didn't use my teeth?"

"I suppose so. Let's get on with the story."

Colin got on with the story, and Geoffrey seemed on the point of falling asleep when he suddenly sat up.

"Colin! I saw a red mark on your neck once; and I've seen red marks on your body sometimes! Did someone _suck_ you?"

"Don't be a twit! You know I'm allergic to mosquitoes."

"Do I? I forget."

"When Mum bought me some special lotion."

"Oh yeah."

Geoffrey drifted into sleep.

Colin looked at Dennis.

"_Vampire!_" he said.

X

Morning came, and Geoffrey's mind must have been working in his sleep.

"Colin, Colin!" he shouted as soon as the three of them were wide awake.

"Hiya Geoff."

"You sometimes have red marks on your bum!"

"Do I?"

"Yeah, I've seen them."

"Do you make a habit of examining my bum?"

"Not a _examining_ it, silly; I like looking at it. It's a pretty bum."

Colin was silent. So innocent. He wondered if they could arrange for Geoffrey to go to Hogwarts early: he wouldn't last long in a Muggle school, making remarks like that.

Geoffrey persisted: "It _is_ a pretty bum, isn't it Den?"

"Yeah, it's a fabulous bum, Geoff. I look at it myself whenever I get the chance."

Colin turned to give Dennis a _You're not being very helpful!_ look, but broke out in a fit of giggles.

Geoff diverted his attention to Dennis: "You've got a pretty bum, too, Den."

Dennis jumped out of bed, stepped out of his pyjama bottoms, and mooned an imaginary audience, saying: "Thank you, fans . . . thank you, fans."

His erection was prominent as he swayed from side to side.

Geoff was in fits too, but managed to gasp out: "You said it was wrong to go about flashing your stiffie in public."

"You're not meant to be looking at it, Geoff," said Dennis.

Colin dived in: "And you're not meant to look at people's bums, unless they ask. So from now on, no looking."

Geoffrey was a terrific user of data that might benefit him. He said: "Mrs Parsons says a cat may look at a king."

"But not at the King's arse," said Colin, still giggling.

"No, only a dog can look at a king's arse," giggled Dennis.

"And sniff it," said Colin.

There followed an undignified scene in which Geoffrey, crying _Woof, woof!_ tried to sniff Dennis's arse, while Dennis fended off the threatening canine by using his penis as a rapier.

Colin used the activity as cover for getting dressed.

He was not sure whether it really mattered if Geoff got acquainted with Colin's erection.

However, in the short-term, there was one factor that counted: Geoff was quite capable of telling anyone in his school: _My brother Colin's willy is six and five eighths inches long, and as fat as a liver-sausage!_

Geoff would have to learn that Sex must be treated with as much discretion as Wizardry.

Eventually, real life intervened.

As they were dressing, Geoffrey said: "How can mosquitoes find their way to your bottom, Col?"

"They probably breed in the lav and fly up when you're having a poo."

"Urrrgh!"

Breakfast was served, and the kids went off to school.

Colin had plenty of time, and decided to write to Danny:

_Dear Daniel Timothy,_

_We're missing you but still having fun._

_Yesterday me & Den went riding ponies with Pete & Robert. It was brill. You should try it. It's not as high up as broomsticks._

_Afterwards we went bird-watching (Twitching it's called). Pete twitched a wagtail and Robert got a nuthatch. Me and Den just kept ourselves to ourselves._

_Last night I got a funny phone call from Robert. He asked for our stones. We thought it was about core curriculum, then that he was just as a newt. Now I wonder if it was anything to with those stones you told us to think about._

_I'm just off to Stratford to see Alexander before he goes on holiday tomorrow._

_Love from Colin E4PH_

_PS Love from Dennis too E4PH_

He popped the letter in the Floo to go by Owl-Relay, and half an hour later, stepped in the fire himself and Floo'd to Stratford.

X

He walked up the hill and knocked on the Bells' door.

It was opened by Alexander himself.

"Quick, come in!" he said, "I'm by myself, but Mum's gone last-minute shopping, and I don't know how long she'll be."

He led Colin upstairs to his tiny bedroom where they locked together in a passionate standing-up clinch.

Colin's tracksuit bottoms were like a tent, and his cock hardened even more as it pressed against Alexander.

"Gotta be quick!" said Alexander.

He backed out of the clinch, pulled his own trousers down, then Colin's.

He dropped to his knees and inhaled the ambience of Colin's penis.

"That's strong," he said.

It _was_ a strong odour: Colin got a waft of it himself.

But the odour didn't last long: Alexander took Colin deeply into his mouth, and started sucking hard and moving his head back and forth.

With his left hand, he played with Colin's balls, and with his right hand, he rubbed his willy.

Colin's heart was full of love for this plucky little boy.

He stroked Alexander's head, and told him: "I love you."

Then lust took over, and Colin's romantic feelings were overlaid with hints of brutality.

"Suck harder, Alex darling! Suck harder!" he shouted.

As the boy obeyed, Colin gave a mighty forward shove and released a gush into the back of Alexander's throat.

The boy did well not to choke, swallowing manfully, and sucking until the very last trickle had been squeezed out.

When Danny had done him, there had been a lot of dribbling, but Alexander must have thought up his future technique in advance and had passed his first practical. Colin liked him for that.

Alexander got up.

"We'd better get ourselves sorted," he said.

"Just time for a quick hello," said Colin, kneeling down

He gave Alexander's penis a little suck, and licked his scrotum a bit.

He had just got his nose embedded in Alexander's anus, when there was a knock on the outside door.

Alexander sprang back and pulled his pants up.

Colin was more leisurely in adjusting his dress: he knew there was plenty of time, and anyway, he was still panting.

Alexander opened the window and looked down.

"Oh, hello. We'll be right there," he said.

He sounded surprised, but not displeased.

"It's David and Simon," he said.

"Is that the pretty one?"

"No."

"Shame. Dennis says that he's the only boy he's ever seen who's prettier than me. Personally, I think Adam Watts is prettier than either of us. Anyway I'd've welcomed another look."

Usually it was Alexander who jabbered after sex, but it was Colin who was bubbling today, and he continued to bubble until they reached the front door.

After the greetings, David explained: "There's sod-all going on at school, so me'n Simon thought we'd play hookey and we knew you'd finished school, so we thought of you."

"Er . . ." said Alexander.

Colin stepped in: "Does that include me?"

"Of course," said David.

Colin found things quite piquant: this loud, domineering boy was actually blushing. The bump was absent, but Colin was sure that it would make an appearance before too long.

"Where do you fancy going?" he asked.

"Well, the boating looked a good lark . . . though it's quite pricey."

"We've got plenty of money. Fancy it Alex?"

"Okay," said Alexander, "I'll leave a note for Mum."

He vanished inside.

Colin guessed that he welcomed the new arrivals, but felt a little sad at not having Colin to himself.

"Are you staying with Alexander?" asked David.

"No, they're off on holiday tomorrow, so I came over this morning to have some fun. I won't see him for ages from today: we're going on holiday ourselves in a couple of weeks."

"How many is _we_?"

"Eight. We've got three sisters too—ten, seven and four."

Alexander came back, and they set off down the hill.

"Why didn't you ring, Alexander?" asked David, "Did you lose the phone number?"

"No . . . I was a bit shy, and with the holiday coming up . . ."

"I'm glad we caught you; and there's no need to be shy."

"No," said Simon, making his conversational debut.

X

They bought a picnic, hired a boat, and set David to rowing as he was the biggest.

"Where are Peter and Paul?" asked Colin.

"They didn't dare come," said David, "Their parents get state support and they can't risk losing it."

"I can see that," said Colin.

"We never had time to ask before," David said, gently plying the oars, "Are you two at school with Danny?"

"No; he was at our school until he moved to Russia."

"Is it a boarding school too?"

"Yeah; a hundred and fifty boys and a hundred and fifty girls."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah; absolutely fabulous."

"Is it like the stories; you know, things like midnight feasts in the dorms?"

"Midnight sex in the dorms, more like," laughed Colin.

"You have girls and boys _together_? In the same dorms?"

"Good lord, no! Sex between boys and girls is virtually impossible. You've far more scope going to a day school like yours."

"Oh I see. You mean wanking. It's not exactly a midnight feast is it . . . Oh you don't mean wanking together?"

David was blushing again; the bump was just visible, despite his seated posture.

"Occasionally it does happen," said Colin, "Don't you boys ever wank together?"

"We did sometimes . . . a couple of years ago, when we were just starting."

"What stopped you? Was it girls?"

"Sort of."

"What's that mean? Is it what I've heard about from other . . . er . . . day school boys? You go out with a girl and get nowhere, so it's a solitary wank at night; or if you really want to get off with her, you've got to be the official boyfriend and stick with her to the point of boredom."

"That's life," said David.

"Bollocks! That's adult life. When you're a teenage boy, you have no responsibilities, you're at your sexual peak, you're surrounded by friends. You should be enjoying sex at least once or twice a day. What do you think, Alex? You've got six full years of teendom ahead of you."

"Once or twice a day sounds Okay. I think . . . er . . . you two and Peter and Paul . . ."

Alexander stopped.

"Carry on Alex. David said not to be shy," said Colin.

"Well, I know I'm younger than them, but it's obvious that once or twice a day they should be having a communal wank at least."

"But that's gay!" said David.

"It's gay if you get caught." said Colin, "Otherwise it's four lads having innocent fun—and learning about Friendship and Love at the same time. Our friend Danny drummed that into the whole school."

There was silence for a while. David, so clearly itching to shag the arse off anyone, must have had a lot to mull over.

But it was Simon who spoke: "Er . . . your friend Danny said when he first met us that he had a boyfriend who he shagged."

"Did he?" said Colin, "That was frankness, anyway."

"So is he really _gay_?"

The two wizards laughed uproariously.

"Was it so obvious?" asked David.

"No, it's the idea that if you have sex with boys you must be gay."

"Seems a good definition."

"Alex, darling, fancy a spot of rowing?"

The boys swapped.

"Row us that way, Alex," said Colin, pointing towards a particularly empty stretch of the river.

"David," said Colin, "Now you can concentrate, why not get your prick out and let me suck it?"

"You're joking!"

"It's a genuine offer."

"That's so gay!"

"Okay, no harm done, then. Row away Alex."

But Simon twitched and said: "Here Colin."

He pulled down his bottoms, revealing a short, stubby erection, surrounded by a thick mass of black, curly hair.

Colin slid down into the bottom of the boat.

He brushed away the hand with which Simon had been intending to wipe away the pre-cum which covered his fat little acorn, and wrapped his lips around the tip.

He slowly moved his head further and further down.

When his nose reached the mass of hair (a wonderful smell like a spring meadow) he moved his head slowly upwards and licked the tip.

He repeated his movements, then closed his lips and started to suck—gently at first, then harder and harder until he could feel his cheeks being sucked inwards.

"Bloody hell!" gasped Simon.

Colin continued his performance for a time, then introduced something new: very gently he kneaded Simon's balls.

When he tickled the ballsack with his fingernails, that was enough: With another _Bloody Hell!_ Simon released his first spurt onto the roof of Colin's mouth.

While, with spasmodic jerks, Simon released the rest of his juices, Colin empathised: here was a boy who, fully sexed-up, had not fancied girls enough to join the majority; yet he was hiding the terrifying intimations of homosexuality—perhaps hiding them even from himself.

What he had done, then, was to join a set of subconsciously-selected people similar to himself: a set united by sportiness, hobbies, schoolwork; but not, sadly, by sex.

In fact this set of four krypto-gays probably ostracised others they saw as queers.

It was a sad world, he thought, as he gulped and turned to Alexander.

"Can I have a shot at rowing?" he asked.

The boys edged along to change places.

"Er . . . er . . ." said David. He was bright pink.

"Bollock-emptying service coming up, David" said Colin.

"Let me do it, Col," said Alexander.

"Er . . . You?" said David, "You're too young!"

"If he's old enough to take my big cock right up him, he's old enough to suck you off, David," said Colin, "Besides, his mouth's pre-lubricated after sucking me off this morning!"

David gaped, but had enough presence of mind to pull down his clothes revealing an attractive BALANCED.

As Colin crawled past, he grabbed a quick suck _en passant_.

"Lucky Alexander!" he said.

"You've pinched the pre-cum, you rat!" said Alexander.

"I won't charge for the spit."

As might be expected, David, the boy with the perpetual erection, didn't last long: Colin and Alexander had scarcely managed half a dozen of their different kinds of stroke, when David went off, squawking and groaning, and probably producing much more semen than Simon.

For the second time that morning, Alexander took it like a man.

He gulped and said: "Turned out nice again!"

Colin rowed on, as each boy thought deeply.

X

They pulled in to the bank, and sprawled on the grass to eat their picnic.

"Thanks, Simon, I enjoyed that," said Colin.

"Likewise, David," said Alexander.

David laughed: "I never thought I'd have a twelve-year-old thanking me for letting him suck my dick. I feel like a pervert."

"So do I, said Colin, "Do you know where we can get one?"

"Anyway, David," said Alexander, "I meant it. I've fancied you since I was seven."

"Seven! I don't believe it," said David.

"It's true. I didn't know about sex, but I wanted to kiss you and I used to wonder if boys ever kissed each other's bottoms."

"I did too," said Colin, "And we both had to wait four years before we found out the answer."

The Stratford boys were silent—probably suffering from shock, information overload, guilt, embarrassment and all the rest of the emotional detritus that humans use to spoil their enjoyment of gay sex.

Tactfully, Colin changed the subject: "Tell us about this Shakespeare that they all go on about."

They spent the rest of the picnic talking about the bard and his plays.

When it was time to row back—Alexander thought he should be home early—, Simon repeated his function as quiet instigator by asking: "Have you really got a big cock, Colin?"

"It gives me and Den a good stretching, anyway," said Alexander.

"Shall we have a communal wank?" said Simon, giving a lead by getting out his own cock.

Nobody answered, but within ten seconds, four hands were stroking strongly and at least six eyes were focussed on Colin's cock which was certainly above average size, if not in accordance with every fantasist's definition of _big_.

Colin would have liked to suggest a few more adventurous things, but did not want to spook David and Simon.

Matters having been concluded satisfactorily, they shipped again and rowed for the home port.

Goodbyes were said, accompanied by promises to phone and visit.

Colin and Alexander trudged up the hill.

"I wonder if they'll take it further," said Colin.

"I hope so; and I hope they pull Peter and Paul in."

"Peter's the pretty one, isn't he?"

X

Mrs Bell gave them tea and buns in the garden.

Colin and Alexander said goodbye politely and decorously, and Colin walked along the road.

"See yer, Col!" shouted Alexander, from his front door.

"See yer, Alex! Have a great hol!"

Colin walked along the road happily.

Danny always insisted that one of the greatest acts that a wizard could do to benefit the rest of wizardkind was to ease the passage of a confused young wizard into gayness.

He and Alexander had done that today, and the day had also been good in less altruistic respects: boating, company, sex, Alexander, Simon, David. Even the picnic food had been good.

It was a quiet area: a few pedestrians, fewer cars, none of the barking dogs that you had to suffer on poorer _estates_.

Yet there was a tiny feeling of ominousness.

Colin glanced at the sky: no sign of thunder; it was a perfectly beautiful summer afternoon.

He remembered a few Muggle films set in Africa or the Wild West where there had been a line: _I don't like it: It's too quiet_.

That was how he felt now.

He looked down the road; then behind him.

Nothing out of the ordinary; nothing suspicious.

He walked on.

He was some way down a long, gently-curving road with no junctions.

He decided to turn round; but in an unsuspicious way.

He walked through a gate, along the garden path and up to the door.

He rang the bell, and asked the housewife who answered it: "Hello, sorry if I've got the wrong house, but does Miss McGonagall live here?"

"No, dear," said the lady, "I've never heard of a Miss McGonagall. Is it important?"

"Not really. She's my teacher. It was about homework. It'll wait till I get back to school."

"Goodbye, dear; sorry I couldn't help you."

"Sorry to have troubled you."

He walked back up the path, but turned right out of the gate, walking back up the hill.

A man was walking slowly towards him.

A fat man in a garish short-sleeved shirt.

A man who had once sat on the top deck of a bus going from Birmingham to the Black Country.

_Stupefy!_

The spell hit the man in the chest.

It had been a powerful spell, fuelled by panic and rage against the Dark Side.

Another man saw the Dark Wizard fall and went to help him.

_Fodico!_

It was Danny's Nudge Charm, a tiny joke-charm, but it counted as violence against Muggles, and the Ministry would soon be here.

Since Harry Potter's trial, Colin had had little confidence in the Ministry's handling of underage offences, but they wouldn't ignore things to do with Muggles.

The Muggle slapped his arm, rubbed it, and continued his approach the fallen fat man.

Colin wandered in that direction too: he might as well wait for the Ministry officials.

Then he froze: his brain was going muddy.

He remembered the training that they had done in Dumbledore's Army.

What was it? What was it?

He shouted aloud:

_God made man_

_Man made bricks_

_Bricks made walls_

_Walls made ice-cream_

A brick wall!

That was it!

He must think of a brick wall.

He felt he was winning and looked round—there must be another Dark Wizard in the vicinity.

Then within his head, he heard words—not painful but commanding.

_Where are the stones?_

Colin was helpless: he could not stop his mind producing images of stones: stones in cemeteries; stones on buildings; the Rosetta Stone that Danny had told him about; the paving stones in Aunt Dora's garden; bricks in the wall—_his_ wall: _that_ brick;_ that_ brick;_ that_ brick . . .

He was free.

He ran down the hill.

He could hear the sound of people Apparating and spells exploding behind him.

Breathless he entered the Floo Point.

He paused for a moment.

Where should he go?

Not home—he wouldn't guide anyone _there_.

Then a warm feeling came to him: he knew the safest place.

He threw a pinch of Powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and shouted: "Professor McGonagall's Office!"

—CHAPTER NINE — _Ancient Magic_

"Useless! Feeble! I've never seen such piteous apologies for wizards in my life. Miaow."

It was not the most common sight in the world: a waist-high cat was standing on its hind legs in front of a class of fifteen boys.

Behemoth glared and said: "Let's try it with the best: Daniel stand up there, and bring your closest friends.

Danny, Brian and the twins stood at the side of the room where the cat had indicated.

Behemoth raised a paw and a small blue star shot towards the boys. It vanished, and a small red star appeared over the hearts of each of the boys, while the ping of a tinkly bell sounded.

The red stars faded away.

"Come on Daniel, you can do better than that," growled the cat in his throaty, purry voice, "Now concentrate. Think about the Group. Four people."

He raised his paw again, and another star appeared, but this one failed to reach the boys and exploded with a soft _phut!_

"Good!" said Behemoth, "I should be taking lessons from you. Now, again . . . again . . . again . . .again . . ."

Each time, the Group blocked the Practice Spell.

Danny felt them working together. He felt Brian's calmness and the twins' ebullience combining with his own intellectual nature to create an impregnable defence. He felt as though he and his family could successfully see off anything that anyone could throw at them.

"Again," said the cat, but this time sent out a fusillade of stars.

The Group created a successful defence, but Danny knew that it had been a close-run thing.

"Good," said the cat, "Such skill. Miaow. Matchless. Though when a real enemy attacks, it won't be a Prince of the Blood, giving you plenty of warning. Another close group, Daniel."

Danny nominated Yuri, Nicolai and the Kalinov brothers. They put up a pretty good show.

The morning passed with Behemoth battling against a variety of Groups.

Behemoth was as bouncy as a kitten at lunch, but the boys were very tired and the Headmaster sent them upstairs for a siesta.

Amazingly, Danny went straight to sleep without thinking of sex. The other boys reported the same experience.

X

The days passed, and things got better and better: the lessons from the Professors and Behemoth; the burgeoning sexual activities; Physical Education; games and hobbies.

Everything contributed to pulling them together. An unexpected spin-off was that they could now enjoy each other's orgasms—in much-weakened form, unfortunately—but more than welcome when you were still panting after your own proper orgasm.

One morning, Professor de Castro called Danny for a conference.

"I've heard from Professor Wolland," he said, "He found a reference to a reference and has traced the only citation involving four stones that he can find."

"That's good news, Sir."

"The even better news is that it refers to a wall-painting that was removed intact and is now in the British Museum in London."

"Which means that it's accessible and without magical protection.

"Precisely."

"Please will you come with me, Sir as I only know a little Coptic and you must speak Ancient Egyptian like a native of Hieroglyphia."

"Certainly, Daniel. Shall we leave now? There's no time like the present."

So, after the usual trauma of the Portkeys they found themselves passing through the huge pseudo-classical portico.

Danny, with his sharp eye for talent, spotted a party of a dozen boys from a posh school coming in behind them. They were a year or two older than Danny; dolled up in green blazers and caps; very ugly.

This struck a false note: people who are good-looking tend to do well in their careers and to enrich themselves. Hence they are likely to get a pretty (and possibly rich) wife. Hence, the children tend to be good-looking, as well as rich; and they go to a posh school, get a better education and are even more likely to do well in their careers.

The thing was self-perpetuating, so that if you picked a random dozen boys from Harrow and put them next to a dozen boys from Moronborough Comp, the disparity in prettiness would be enormous—though to Danny, prettiness and attractiveness were completely different.

He was suspicious and would have liked to latch on to the boys—one tall dark one in particular who Danny marked down as gay from the careful macho way he walked.

Growing up gay at Moronborough Comp usually meant a lifetime of concealment.

Danny re-focussed as he and Professor entered the Egyptian area.

"Only five percent of the collection is available for public display at any time," said the Professor, "However, Professor Wolland promised to ensure that our painting formed part of that five percent. I fear he used Time Adjustment and Portals connected to the Other Places—totally forbidden, but Professor Wolland is one of the forbidders."

Their picture was indeed there.

They examined it closely.

Four men, with brick-red skin were walking head-to-tail in line. There were naked except for short skirts and wigs. Their bodies and arms had a few multi-coloured stripes. Head and legs were in profile, but their bodies were turned to face the viewer.

The three rearmost were holding up sprigs of greenery with one arm; the other held up four tiny figures of birds with human heads.

The leading man was also holding up each hand, accoutred like the others. But he also had a third hand which held what looked like four jewels—red, white, blue, black.

The four men were approaching a crouching creature which appeared to have the rear end of a hippopotamus, the front end of a lion, and a crocodile head.

Behind the figure was a group of cloaked people with skulls for heads.

"Those are Dementors, I suppose?"

"Yes, and the crocodile-head is not Sobek, as we supposed, but Ammit, the eater of souls—as good a description of a Dementor as any."

There was a border of hieroglyphics.

"Please translate the border," said Danny.

The Professor obliged, reciting:

_Fire Stone, Earth Stone, Water Stone, Air Stone, Four Stones_

_Ancestor God, Father God, Pure God, Wounded God, Four Gods_

_Happy, Happy, Happy, Happy, Four Souls_

_Together Victory Robber Souls_

"There are the four stones," said Danny, "And the second line could be me, Brian, and the twins."

"How do work that out?"

"Me and Brian have adopted the twins, so we are theIr fathers. But I'm two years older than Brian, so I could be a grandfather, or ancestor father. And the only way an outsider can tell the twins apart is that Boris has a scar, so he's the wounded god and Pavel is the pure god."

"Sounds feasible. And the last line is very encouraging, bearing as it does on our Togetherness Project."

"Yes," said Danny, "It could mean that together, these four men could achieve victory over the robber of souls."

"But in that case, why is each man offering four souls to her—for the tiny figures represent four spiritual souls—Bas? And whose souls are they, for no man would offer his own Ba?"

"I think they're not offering them, they're showing Ammit that each man holds in his hand the souls of himself and his comrades, which, after all, is what the Togetherness Project is all about."

"Yes, Daniel. That is likely."

"Where do we go from here, Professor?"

"Well, you must continue to hunt for the stones, obviously. Meanwhile, now we know it's Ammit and not Sobek, I will scour the literature. Also I think participation in the main Togetherness Project by your family should cease: you, Brian, Boris and Pavel should stay physically together at all times and keep in ceaseless psychic communion."

"Any thoughts on weapons?" asked Danny, "I mean, we can't just turn up and say hello we're together."

"You have a weapon that the Egyptians didn't know about—which is presumably why it doesn't appear here."

"My Patronus! But that will only disperse Dementors, not obliterate them, which is what we want.

"Have you forgotten—"

"Of course! The Destroyer Patronus."

"Yes. Illegal because of its lethal quality; and also because it burns physically as well as psychically and used to cause many destructive fires. You will have to learn it, Daniel."

"Oh, I know it already. In fact I used it only a few days ago to light a bonfire for a friend."

The Professor laughed: "Oh Daniel, that's a good story for my old age. A fourteen-year-old boy used _Expecto Patronum Exscinditque!_—one of the most difficult and dangerous invocations—to light a bonfire!"

"It's a useful tool—much better than _Incendio!_—but listen Professor: are we meant to destroy Ammit as well as Dementors? Ammit is meant to be a god, i.e. immortal, after all."

"She may have been around for thousands of years, but she's just a nasty intruder from another universe, so even if she can't be killed, she can be driven out of _our_ universe."

"That's good."

"Now, Daniel, I have a wizard contact in the Egyptology section. I propose to consult him on Ammit while I'm here. Since there is a security issue involved in people knowing that you're interested in Egypt, can I suggest that you amuse yourself elsewhere for an hour and we meet up in Jorrocks HQ for a review to see if there's anything else to do before we leave England?"

"Yes, Sir."

They walked down the room and suddenly there was an uproar: loud bangs; smoke; that woman who screams, obviously on day-release from Hollywood.

"A Muggle affair," said the Professor, "Time for a Disillusionment. One hour, Daniel."

He vanished.

X

Danny Disillusioned too, and decided to stay and see the fun.

The smoke was acrid so he used a Pure Air Charm.

Then the sprinklers went off, so he had to use an Umbrella Charm.

It was a jolly good plan—considering it came from Muggles.

They were on a theft.

A gang of posh schoolboys could get inside the museum without attracting the attention of Security.

Inside they could attract attention in the right way: to divert it from the people planting the bombs, etc.—_I say, Charles, look at this, it's absolutely super_.

Then they could revert to their true selves: lower-class thugs—one of them on lookout had one of these stun guns. _For God's sake keep it away from Ron's dad_, he thought.

Looking more closely, he saw that this particular non-stunner with a stunner was his possibly gay friend, still wearing an incongruous blazer.

_Bugger Togetherness for a bit, and bugger the Statute of Secrecy_, he thought, _I'm going to brighten up this little rascal's day_.

He revealed himself and walked up to the boy.

"Hello."

"Who the hell are you?" came through the gas mask.

"Reserve squad. The thing is I took one look at you and really fancied you."

"You . . ."

"I wonder if you'd do a favour for your team-mate and let me suck your cock?"

"Piss off! I aint—wha?"

Chummy had twitched his stun gun, and Danny had whizzed it onto the floor.

"You won't need that. I'll use my Delta-ray gun. Just shout if anyone comes."

Danny dropped to his knees and unzipped the smart flannel trousers.

The boy twitched as though moving to run away, but thought better of it.

Danny pulled out the cock. _Yes, gay!_ he thought: anyone who could get a semi in such stressful circumstances was seriously turned on.

"Don't watch me; you're on look-out."

He took the cock in his mouth and it stiffened immediately. Not a stunner in the penis department either.

He started work as best he could, given the limited access, and was rewarded with a groan and a thrust.

The underpants had been significantly urinated on. Nerves, Danny supposed.

He sucked, bobbed his head and licked.

More groans, then the boy called: "Man!"

Danny removed his mouth and Confunded a security guard into running in the opposite direction.

He went straight back to the cock and found it was still stiff, despite the scare.

This boy was really into Danny.

He started sucking again and took pleasure in the boy's obvious excitement.

He was onto his second lick when the boy screamed _Jesus Frigging Christ Almighty_ and dribbled half a teaspoonful onto Danny's tongue.

Some more cum appeared and, when the boy had finished, Danny quickly tucked him in and zipped him up.

The cum tasted of nicotine.

Danny gave the boy his stun gun back.

"Thank you, big boy," he said, "Made my day."

"Good luck with the robbery," he added as he walked away, "And I don't think you should tell anyone about this."

He Disillusioned again, and walked out the museum through a noisy welter of blue-flashes and people enjoying being in charge.

He was horny and had a taste for more cock; and he hoped that a much-loved cock would shortly be nestling in his mouth.

He found the nearest Floo point and travelled to Jorrocks and Company.

X

"Is Mr Polkiss in today, please?" he asked the Muggleside (officially _Open Section_) Office Manager.

"Yes, Master Daniel, I saw him earlier. Shall I ask him to meet you?"

"That would be great."

"Conference Room Five."

He waited in the room and, one minute later Piers burst in.

He closed and locked the door, and said: "Oh, _Danny_! I couldn't _believe_ it when Mr Austen said you were here! You look _so_ big; and so _gorgeous_! Give us a kiss!"

Piers had become even camper. He was as girly as Tintin.

This was a little surprising to those meeting Piers for the first time: six foot three, sixteen-year-old queens were a rarity.

As they kissed, Danny had the thought that, if Piers ever went for ever went in for full drag, he wouldn't be buying his clothes off-the-peg.

Piers smelt like a girl. He kissed like a girl too, smearing Danny with very soft, very wet lips.

"Let's go half-mast," said Danny, "I've just sucked off a thief and I need some honest cock."

"_Ooh_," said Piers, as he lowered his smart trousers and fashionable underpants, "Not that _ruffian_ with the _gigantic basket_?"

"No," said Danny, lowering his own kit and exposing a pulsating stiffie, "It was a rather underhung seventeen-year-old."

Piers was looking at Danny's willy: "_Danny_, you've _grown_! You're a _real_ _man_ with a _real_ _penis_!"

"You've grown a bit too, Piers. Still as pointy as ever."

Before Piers could make a grab, Danny got to his knees.

He turned Piers round and admired the Piers Polkiss Penis-Puller. It was still delectable.

Piers had won the title Mr Beautiful Bum, 1995, and the slightly larger version was in the running for 1996.

Danny kissed each cheek before parting the cheeks and exposing the bumhole. This looked to be the bit of Piers that had grown the most. A lot of assiduous work from Dot, he guessed—and maybe from Grant.

He sniffed the hole, then licked it.

The smell and taste of _Girl_.

A pity.

He turned Piers round and took the pointy willy into his mouth.

More girly flavour, but this faded as Danny started sucking.

He was hit by a wave of exultation.

At first he thought it had emanated from Russia, but soon realised that it came from within himself; and what it amounted to was his most complete recognition ever of the joy of sucking.

Of course, he was like many gay boys in that he would willingly have sucked penis after penis until his mouth gave out. But this was a stronger sensation—a mystical feeling that _he_ was the one getting the treat.

This was borne out when Piers squirted with little shrieks. Danny was utterly convinced that he was getting more joy out of it than Piers.

Happily, he rolled Piers' cum around his mouth. Its flavour hadn't changed, and Danny could have identified it at a blind tasting.

They had soon swapped positions, and Danny's ecstatic squirting into Piers' mouth gave him the feeling that this was his second orgasm within a minute.

It was something to do with the Togetherness Project.

They just had time to exchange news about mutual friends before a knock on the door announced that a visitor was waiting for Danny in the Closed Section.

"Sorry, Girl," said Danny, "I'd like to have lunch with you today, but this sounds like my call back to Russia."

"I understand, Danny. We're busy here, too"

"Are you liking it?"

"It's _incredible_. They may move me to the _Closed_ Section in a couple of years."

Danny was impressed: only the most useful and high-flying Muggles were allowed to learn about the magic world

"Wow!" he said "You're obviously doing Okay!"

They parted with a chaste hug.

X

He found the Professor waiting for him in a conference room.

It was British lunch time, and food had been set out.

"A lot of progress, I'm pleased to say, Daniel," said the Professor, "In the first place, we found a poem, that its Victorian Muggle translator assured his readers was a faithful rendering of Latin verses related to: "The needs of those who would use the British Great Stones of Power."

"Good!" said Danny, "It sounds just what we need, but it depends on what the needs actually _are_."

The Professor read the poem:

_Laugh without Pain_

_ Loathe without Spite_

_ Love without Gain_

_ Lark without Blight_

"Unfortunately," said the Professor, "The Latin original has been lost, so this is all we have. When the translator uses rhyme or alliteration—in this case both—the accuracy of translation must be questioned," said the Professor, "So we will have to weigh each word carefully."

"I don't think so, said Danny, "The poem makes complete sense:

"Laughter can be horribly wounding, and the first line warns us not to hurt people with ridicule: there is an old Muggle phrase about laughing _with_ people and not _at_ them.

"The second line tells us that we must not allow any personal nasty feelings to affect our judgements. The Muggles have a saying for that too: _hate the sin and love the sinner_.

"The third line tells us that the people we love must not be exploited. They are as important as we are. The Muggle saying is: _Love Thy Neighbour As Thyself_.

"And the fourth line tells us to live life and enjoy ourselves—but never at the expense of others."

"A credible exegesis, Daniel," said the Professor.

"And it couldn't define my moral code more succinctly," said Danny, "I don't always live up to it, but at least I try. And I get my friends to try too.

"So I find that poem very encouraging.

"These old verses that tell you what you need, often concentrate on _who_ you are—a seventh son of a seventh son, and so on; or what you can _do_ —like a lifetime's study of spellwork; or what you _own_—like our four stones.

"But this poem just tells us to be pure in spirit."

"Heartening, Daniel; and equally hearteningly, my friend and I have made a promising guess as to where Ammit may be found.

"_What!_"

"Yes, Daniel. Do you remember Ammit's backdrop in the painting?"

"A scraggy rock."

"And one of the dark bits of rock might have been a _cave_."

"Yes, in fact, now I come to think of it, it's very like a cave."

"And much of the writings refer to Ammit as living in darkness."

"But she came out to meet the four men."

"She _must_ emerge sometimes, Daniel. Again, the writings tell us: she needs moonlight. I would guess that the scraps of human soul she receives from the Dementors have to be supplemented by the moon's rays, which as we know aren't just reflected sunlight, but incorporate mystic inclusions from Other places."

"There are millions of caves in the world. Hundreds of them have been said to be the entrance to the Underworld."

"But only one that has, for the last millennium at least, led to Muggle and wizard tales about horrors emanating from it; about its doleful surroundings; about suicides; about madness. And that cave is Wookey Hole."

"Wookey Hole! But that's a Muggle day-trip place. Muggles aren't going to go visiting a place with doleful surroundings."

"My guess is that, when tourism started, Ammit welcomed it as an additional disguise, and you may be sure that she stopped the Dementors from going anywhere near the Muggle areas."

"It's only thirty miles from Malfoy Manor."

"Yes, though it probably signifies nothing."

"Let's go after her, now!"

"Whoa! I don't think we should rush. I don't think we _need_ to. We're ahead of Kryuchkov, and I think we need some more work.

"Top priority is definitely your four-way togetherness: the picture and the poem tell us that.

"The poem also suggests that the stones are not necessary, but they _are_ shown in the picture, so you should continue your hunt as a background, bearing in mind that we have the certain knowledge that Kryuchkov can't possess the full set.

"Let's get back to Yorosk and carry on the good work!"

"Yes, Sir."

X

When they got back to Yorosk, Danny explained to everybody that a task had come up which required him and his family to quickly form an especially tight group, so they would no longer participate in Pairs Night or Wank of the Day.

"Yuri's in charge now," he said, "But still keep in mental touch with us."

He removed the twins' bed and slightly enlarged his and Brian's bed.

From now on, the four of them would do everything together, and that night Danny's juices were smeared over four anatomies.

The following afternoon, as they were stretching their legs along the river, the twins spoke about what was on their minds:

"For Togetherness, there's no coming in bums and mouths," said Boris.

"But the magic's still there in the memory," said Pavel.

"You came in our mouths."

"It was nice."

"And we've got the memory."

"But you never came in our bottoms."

"So we've not got the memory."

"So we think you should do it to us."

"Just once."

"And then we'd have the memory."

"And then stop doing it."

The twins had been buggered by some of the little boys, but had never had a big willy up them.

Although they had often asked Danny to do it to them, he had resisted: he knew his sons' bumholes via finger and tongue, and wasn't sure whether they were ready for it yet.

"What do you think, Brian?" he said.

"They're right," said Brian.

"Okay, one tonight and one tomorrow. Toss for it boys."

The two boys tossed a mental coin.

"Me tonight," said Pavel.

"Me tomorrow," said Boris.

They went to bed very early, without waiting to watch the dice organising Pairs Night under Yuri's direction.

Never was a bumhole so lovingly kissed, anointed, charmed and fingered as Pavel's.

Never was a penis so lovingly and gently pressed against a hole and slowly eased inside.

They were in the spoons position.

Boris was pressed against his brother, snogging him.

Brian was behind Boris playing with his bumhole: sometimes his tongue, sometimes his finger pressing inside.

Suddenly the magic moment came: Pavel's muscles relaxed totally, and Danny was inside all the way.

He jerked slowly backward and forward.

To his own burst of joy, he felt an amplification from Brian, from Boris, but incredibly, intensely and overwhelmingly from Pavel.

As he shagged the boy, he felt they were one.

Like a drowning man's life flashing before him, Danny felt Pavel's love: from the moment that Nick had shaken him awake in the prison, through the thousands of times that Pavel had looked at Danny with unconditional love, always with Boris and Brian there.

And now, this.

He spurted, and felt the transcendental unity of the four of them.

He must be ramming Pavel hard, but had no knowledge of this: the entire physical universe had been overlaid with this wonderful incorporeal ecstasy.

They lay in this blissful state until the physical world reappeared.

"Are you alright, Danny?" asked Yuri. He was standing in the doorway.

"Yeah," he panted.

"We didn't think anyone could _live_ through that."

"Come on boys!" said Danny, "To the common room."

They got up and went into the corridor, where some boys were standing while other heads poked out of bedroom doors.

The fifteen nude boys assembled in the common room, dedicated enough, Danny noticed with pleasure, to stay with their partners of the night, rather than their own special friends.

He explained the twins' hypothesis, and told them that the night's act of buggery was a one-off—or, rather, the first of a two-off.

It turned out that all of the eleven non-participants had experienced, to a greater or lesser extent, the immense emotional feelings of the four other boys

They were about to retire, when Veniamin said: "I've never had juice in my bottom."

"Nor me," said Semyon.

"Nor me," said Yefim.

"_You_, Fima!" said Danny

"I was saving it for you."

"Then what I think we should do is continue tonight as planned, and declare tomorrow an Extraordinary Seeding Night, where you three—and of course Boris—can receive the missing memories. Everyone agree?"

Of course they agreed, but Ivan raised another factor: "I've never squirted in a bottom."

"But why not, Vanya—Oh!"

They all laughed.

Ivan's penis was currently quiescent, but its four and a half inches of fat floppiness reminded the boys of why they hadn't wanted the full monty in their fundament.

"Oh, Vanya! I'm so sorry." said Danny, "You should have been a kick-starter. We went just for the big-cummers. Consider yourself on the agenda for Extraordinary Seeding Night.

"Now last check: everyone know the taste of cum? . . . Good . . . Everyone who can shoot, except Fima, has shot in a bottom? . . . Good. Then it's back to bed!

X

It was to be a short night for Danny.

Shortly before midnight, Professor de Castro's Patronus, an Iberian Wolf, woke Danny.

He went into, the hall and the Professor handed him two slips of paper.

There was a message from Kingsley:

_Two Creevey brothers arrived Hogwarts tonight. Anything to do with your business? _

Danny was baffled, but not worried.

The second message _was_ worrying. It was from Gully:

_Colin Creevey had brush with Special K. Currently with brother Dennis under Hogwarts asylum. Am on call at JHQ London._

Danny was reeling. _Colin? Kryuchkov?_ He could conceive of no possible explanation.

But he knew what he had to do.

"I must go to Hogwarts at once, Professor. I'll take my team of four."

"Yes, Daniel"

"Professor: this has _got_ to be something to do with the stones."

"I feel that too, Daniel. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"Not yet; please continue the boys' training; and please tell Yuri he's in charge at night."

"I will; good luck; and be careful!"

Danny woke his family and got them to load up a backpack each.

They then Portkeyed to Moscow, where he roused his surprised mother, and joined her in a successful telephone conversation with his father.

Danny stressed the urgency of the situation.

"Make sure he gets off his fat arse (_Language, Dear_ from Mrs Jorrocks) and sorts Hogwarts out straight away."

Then it was another Portkey and a few hours' kip at Jorrocks HQ in London.

At eight o'clock, Gully arrived and Danny learned a little more:

"I said in my message that it was Kryuchkov, but that was just an educated guess. I can now tell you something for certain: at Stratford, your little Colin Creevey Stunned Rappaport.

"_Rappaport__!_"

"Yes, _mea culpa_, I'd forgotten how sharp a man he is. It didn't seem to be important that Kryuchkov had got the second prophecy out of Neville (_mea culpa_ again), but no doubt Rappaport explained it to him, knowing that you were the son of the richest man in the kingdom.

"Thereafter, it was easy for a man of Rappaport's calibre: it's common knowledge that the Creeveys are your brothers; easy to trace, having Muggle parents.

"Then, knowing that the Creevey household was too protected for anyone to get inside, they simply followed them about and seized the moment."

"Presumably, Kryuchkov has Legilimented Colin," said Danny, "but I don't think that matters because Colin knows nothing about the stones. I asked him to let me know as soon as he thought of anything."

"Then we're still in the game," said Gully.

"Yes. Now Gully, I'll Apparate to Hogwarts and please can you stand by to Floo the other three to this address."

He wrote it down, and made Gully practice saying it, before telling him that Brian would be able to pronounce it.

He Apparated directly to Hogsmeade, for the first time, and strode down the Hogwarts drive singing.

—CHAPTER TEN — _A Meeting at Hogwarts_

"Colin Creevey! What are you doing here?"

Professor McGonagall had been sitting in her comfy chair, knitting and listening to the Wizard Wireless. Now she was standing, with her wand pointed towards Colin.

"I was attacked in Stratford, Miss. I thought they might chase me home, so I came here instead.

"Have a seat . . . and something to drink."

A glass of fruit squash hovered in the air by Colin, who grasped it and drank thirstily. His mouth had been very dry.

The Professor was talking in the fireplace: "Yes, Mrs Creevey, I'm at Hogwarts . . . Colin's here with me, safe and unhurt . . . I don't know; some sort of struggle . . . I think it's best if he stays here for the night . . . yes, Cleveland is protected, but we have all the facilities here for investigation, defence and attack . . . I'm sure he'd like some company . . . Yes and get him to pack a bag for Colin."

Colin was overjoyed: Dennis was coming.

"In the meantime, Colin, I think it might be a good idea for you to see Madam Pomfrey."

"That won't be necessary, Miss. It was only a little Confundus, I think, and a very short go at Legilimency. They didn't have time to do anything worse because I'd wounded a Muggle and they knew the Ministry would be arriving."

"Mmm!"

Professor McGonagall went over to a wall.

She pulled a plug out of a tube, and blew down the tube.

After a while Colin heard a ghostly voice.

"Ah, Argus," said the Professor, "Would you kindly ask Poppy to bring a—no, make that two—Calming and Relaxing Potions . . . and would you kindly ask Madam Bellectus to set the the house-elves to make sure the Creevey's beds are aired . . . yes . . . yes . . . I know it's vacation . . . yes, thank you Argus."

She turned to Colin and said, very seriously: "Mr Filch has asked me to remind you that there is to be no magic in the corridors."

"Yes, Miss."

"Now, would you like to tell me about your scrape?"

"Well, I was visiting Alexander Bell—he's going on hol tomorrow—when I was attacked. I escaped but someone else put a Confundus on me and I thought I'd got out of that, but they tried to read my mind, but they didn't get anything out of me, because I don't know anything important so I stung a Muggle so as to bring the Ministry. Then I ran to the Floo Point and even if it was a case of mistaken identity, I didn't want to let them know where I lived so I came here."

"A correct decision, Colin. What were they trying to get from your mind?"

"I don't know. It was all a jumble."

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in, Poppy . . . ah, just in time."

Dennis had burst from the fireplace, with two heavy-looking kitbags.

"Colin!" he shouted, "You've had an adventure! What was it? Is there more? Can I come? Glug . . . glug . . . glug."

Madam Pomfrey had forced a glass of fluid onto him, and he was trying to drink and talk at the same time.

"Thank you, Poppy, said Professor McGonagall.

"And thank _you_ Colin and Dennis," said the kindly Matron, "It's nice to be needed again; and to have something to do."

"Time for tea," said the Professor, "Have you eaten, boys?"

"No, I'm starving," said Dennis.

"Me too," said Colin.

"Then off we go," said the Professor, "The house-elves will take your luggage up to your rooms."

"Please would they put it all in Dennis's room," said Colin, "We'll share his bed."

"Yes, you won't feel so lonely."

Both boys wondered how much Professor McGonagall knew or suspected about what happened when boys shared a bed.

"And the holiday password is _Bucket and Spade_."

X

The five of them went down to the Great Hall.

"There's no tables," said Dennis.

"There _are_ no tables," said Mrs Englishen-Latin, who was Duty Head of House, subbing for the holidaying Professor Sprout, "Hello Colin. Hello Dennis. How nice to have youngsters here again."

"You can sit on the staff table with us," said Professor McGonagall.

"Coo!" said Colin and Dennis, simultaneously.

"We have one new member of staff: this is Damian Fay, Assistant to Professor Sprout in the Faculty of Herbology. Damian, meet Colin and Dennis Creevey."

"Damian!" said Dennis, "Are you the same Damian—"

"Shut up Den!" warned Colin.

"Quite right, Colin," said Professor McGonagall, "You won't have heard of Damian before. He's a Muggle who was brought in by Professor Sprout. He knows none of the students here, except for you two."

Professor McGonagall was looking stern.

They all took their places at the staff table, but Dennis immediately jumped up, went to the front of the platform, and addressed the school:

"Hem, hem," he said à l'Umbridge, "It has come to my attention that some of the students have been showing human compassion—"

"Sit down, Creevey," said Professor McGonagall, but Madam Pomfrey snorted with laughter.

The food arrived, and conversation was mainly about holiday trips.

The Creeveys' plans for the Black Sea aroused only mild interest, but their proposed trip to Denmark caused amazement.

"Are you telling me that two of our fifteen-year-olds are going to go through some form of _Marriage_ ceremony?" said Professor McGonagall.

No; not at all," said Colin, firmly, "They are going to go through a _proper_ Marriage ceremony. It's valid under Danish law and therefore, according to the statutes of the International Confederation of Wizards, valid in Britain."

"But it's anatomically impossible," said Madam Pomfrey, "I'm a trained nurse, so I know."

"Marriage between two males was a major sociological feature in ancient wizard communities in Assyria, Babylonia, Greece, Thracia and Rome," said Mrs Englishen-Latin.

"So were cannibalism, human sacrifice and Dark Magic," said Professor McGonagall, "What about their education . . . their careers?"

"Oh, they're coming back to Hogwarts," said Colin, brightly.

"Back here?"

"There'll be no disruption, Miss; they're in the same dorm, anyway."

"Well, maybe it's not impossible. Anyway, it's a _fait accompli_, so we've got to make it work."

"Spoken like a true liberal," said Damian.

X

The brothers had not had much chance to talk to Damian over the meal, so they invited him up to their dorm while they unpacked.

Dennis, having nearly slipped up, was being very careful, but Colin knew that Dennis, like himself, was very interested in Damian, and for all the same reasons.

Damian was quite a common name among Muggles, but the arrival at Hogwarts of a Muggle Damian who matched in age and general appearance Harry's Muggle Damian, as reported by Danny, was very suggestive.

"How on earth did a Muggle get into Hogwarts?" asked Colin.

"I used to live up the road, and I met Professor Sprout when she was collecting herbs, and we had a good discussion. Then we met again, and she inducted me into Hogsmeade and told me about the magic world, so we were able to talk about magic plants as well, and swap specimens."

That settled it: he _was_ Harry's Damian.

"Dennis, you ratbag!" said Colin, "You packed me five pairs of knickers and only one pair of socks. Sorry about that Damian."

"Mum gave me a new six-pack, so I thought we'd share."

"Sorry, Den, I know you're perfect really."

"Well . . . I'm sorry, I forgot your blue tracksuit."

"You're still perfect, darling. Sorry again Damian. Families. Have you got any brothers or sisters?"

"One older sister, living in Belgium. What about you?"

"One little brother and three little sisters. Our little brother, Geoff, has just moved out from our sister and the three of us are sharing a room. Tonight's the first night he's sleeping alone."

"He wanted Danny to come over and babysit," said Dennis.

"That's Danny Jorrocks," explained Colin, "He used to be here. He's our adopted brother."

"So there are four brothers," said Damian.

Colin had seen a slight spark of recognition when Damian heard Danny's name.

"Have you ever met any of the students?" he asked.

"Only you two."

"Look out for someone called Harry Potter. He's famous. We love him."

"I'll look forward to meeting him."

"I'm sure you'll love him too. Then we'll love you. If you _had_ met him already we'd love you now."

Dennis couldn't suppress a giggle.

"Oh Dennis!" said Colin, "There's no need to giggle when people mention love. Let's finish unpacking and go for a walk around the lake. Do you fancy coming, Damian?"

"Not half! It's nice to have some company."

"You won't be short of company when Harry and the others arrive," said Dennis.

He had reached the stage of arranging his farm animals along the window ledge.

"They're nice," said Damian, walking over to look at them.

"I used to drive one of these," he said, picking up a tractor, "They're powerful—oh, hello?"

He had put down the tractor, and picked up the pebbles.

"I found one just like these the other day, except it's blue."

"Can we see?" asked Colin, interested.

"Yeah, it's in the greenhouse, we can drop in during our walk."

"Let's go!" said Dennis.

X

"They're really like each other," said Colin.

He was cradling the three pebbles in his hand.

"It's weird," said Damian, "This one from the lake; this one from Herbology; this one from Birmingham."

"We don't know if it means anything," said Colin.

"And this Muggle is totally clueless," said Damian, "Anyway, they belong to the world of magic, so please take mine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course."

They went for their walk.

At one point, Colin said: "Did you feel that, Den?"

"Yeah," said Dennis, Danny's happy.

By the lake, Dennis asked: "Can we come and help you tomorrow?"

"If you want to," said Damian, "Are you interested in plants?"

"I've got greenish fingers," said Colin, "But Dennis has got brown fingers."

"Only when Colin hasn't wiped properly," said Dennis.

But Colin was a fastidious wiper, as Dennis later confirmed with his tongue.

After a night of passion, the brothers went down to be breakfast and were told by Professor McGonagall: "Colin, there's a man from the Ministry coming to talk to you about yesterday's incident."

"Does that mean, Colin's in trouble, Miss?" asked Dennis.

"I wouldn't have thought so, Creevey. He was attacked, and defended himself lawfully, and with minimal violence. Ten o'clock in my office."

They reported at ten-o'clock and found three professors present: Snape and Flitwick, as well as McGonagall.

"Please take a seat, Creeveys." said Professor McGonagall, indicating vacant chairs at her big table.

There was a crackle from the fireplace and a middle aged man emerged. The brothers recognised him as the Auror, Mr Dawlish.

He was followed by a young wizard who Colin knew was Percy Weasley—his time at Hogwarts had overlapped Colin's by a couple of years.

After the greetings, they all sat at the table, and Mr Dawlish said: "Right! To business!"

"Business!" said Snape, speaking for the first time, "I am amazed that I have been summoned from a rest-day on a matter of the most trivial underage magic."

"Shall I minute that, Sir?" asked Percy.

"Use your own judgement, Weasley," snapped Mr Dawlish, "Snape, I have spoken to you before about your impetuous habit of mouthing off when you are not in possession of the facts."

"Then pray lay the facts before us, Dawlish."

"Yesterday afternoon, an alarm was received at the Ministry," Mr Dawlish began, "One Creevey, Colin had laid a hex on a Muggle. A very minor hex, so minor that only a single member of the Improper Use of Magic Office, unaccompanied by Obliviators was sent.

"At that point, an alert official pointed out that a few seconds before the Nudge Charm the same Creevey, Colin had Stunned a wizard.

"Major Incident status was declared, and a team of Aurors and Auxiliaries was deployed."

"Stop there, Dawlish," said Snape, "Are you claiming that this fifteen-year-old youth was able to defeat an adult Wizard?"

"Yes," said Dawlish, "And not just any wizard: the unconscious man was identified as Naum Rappaport, a powerful Russian wizard, wanted for crimes involving Dark Magic in several countries, including Britain."

"Who was using your wand, Creevey?" asked Snape.

"I was, Sir," said Colin.

"And where did you learn how too Stun people?"

"From Professor Lupin, Sir, and then Professor Moody."

"I don't believe you. You are lying to protect someone else."

Colin drew his wand: _Stupefy!_

Dennis slumped back in his chair.

_R__ennervate!_

Dennis opened his eyes and sat up.

"Sorry, Den," said Colin, "We'd have been here all day otherwise."

"That's Okay, Col," said Dennis, "He's too stupid, or spiteful, or both to believe the blindingly obvious."

Snape opened his mouth, but Professor McGonagall cut him off with: "Take no notice at all, Severus, the boy is suffering from Post-Traumatic Spell Disorder."

"I see no evidence for that, Professor McGonagall," said Mr Dawlish, "Once again Snape, I must ask you to desist from delaying the Inquiry."

"Shall I minute all this, Sir?" asked Percy.

"By all means, Weasley. A full and accurate record is essential. Now, perhaps, we can continue.

"Colin, why don't you tell us in your own words what happened?"

Colin gave the Inquiry the sanitised version of events that he had given Professor McGonagall.

When he had finished, Mr Dawlish asked: "You've never seen this Rappaport before?"

"No, Sir."

"And could you form any impression of the second wizard—the one who tried to read your mind?"

"No, Sir."

And can you think of anything _in_ your mind that a Dark Wizard might want to read."

"No, Sir."

"What _about_ this second wizard, Mr Dawlish?" asked Professor McGonagall, "Did the Aurors see him?"

"They saw a weakly-Disillusioned figure and exchanged a few spells with him before he Disapparated."

"And Rappaport?"

"Held at Azkaban for interrogation."

At this point there was a commotion and ex-Minister Cornelius Fudge emerged from the fireplace.

"Good morning, gentleman," he said, "Good morning Colin and Dennis. Professor McGonagall, I was sent to warn you that the Minister will shortly be arriving."

"Good lord!" said Mr Dawlish "I had formed the impression that this Inquiry was dealing with a minor incident.

"The Minister isn't interested in your little affairs, Dawlish. He is coming on an entirely unrelated matter. Now please carry on."

"I think we've virtually finished, Sir. It seems clear that this was a case of mistaken identity. Does anyone disagree?"

There was silence, though Snape looked as though he were at boiling point.

"Good," continued Mr Dawlish, "So that is the Inquiry's formal conclusion, with the additional note that Colin Creevey is to be congratulated on facing a formidable challenge with remarkable skill and self-possession—at least three esses, Weasley—and upholding the highest standards of Wizardkind."

The Inquirers left and Fudge called via Floo: "Professor McGonagall awaiting the Minister."

In a few moments Rufus Scrimgeour appeared.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall!" he said, in his penetrating voice, and shook her hand.

"Don't go," he boomed, "Teachers and students, Eh? Very relevant.

"Professor McGonagall, I must first confess that you are second choice: I would have dealt with the Headmaster, but he is so elusive. Have you any idea of Dumbledore's whereabouts, Professor?"

"None whatsoever, Minister."

"I don't want you to think I'm getting paranoid about Dumbledore, like some people have in the past—Mr Fudge slumped in his chair—but it would be nice to be kept a bit better-informed.

"Still, I am quite happy to deal with his deputy, and, for once in these interesting times it's good news.

"The firm of Jorrocks have offered us a generous triple endowment. Mr Jorrocks told me that, because of our on-going problems, he was concerned that International Wizarding Co-operation was in danger of falling behind in our priorities.

"He has decided that we should start with Youth and proposes:

"Firstly, a two thousand Galleon grant to each department of Hogwarts to be used in the furtherance of International Wizarding Co-operation, at the dispensation of the heads of department."

"Excellent!" said Professor Flitwick, "We can now fund the exchange Charms visits with Beauxbatons."

"Good, Good," said the Minister, "Secondly a scholarship fund to allow Portuguese students to join Hogwarts."

"Why Portuguese?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"Mr Jorrocks said that, despite a good Economy, facilities for magical education in Portugal are especially poor.

"Thirdly, five thousand Galleons to establish a Married quarters at Hogwarts—not I should say, marriage as we know it . . . er"

For the first time, the Minister hiccupped as he surveyed the three unmarried Professors sitting in front of him, but he recovered quickly:

"Mr Jorrocks is talking about the marriage between two males, which his son tells him is now legal in many countries, hence, indirectly, legal here, and, having no likely relevance to child-bearing, is likely to result in marriages at an early age, and a need for Hogwarts to be able to deal with in a modern manner."

The Minister paused for breath and decided that, despite convoluted grammar, he'd got the message across.

"The money is already in Hogwarts No. 1 Account at Gringotts, and I'm sure you'll spend it wisely and well.

"Now, as you can imagine, I have much business to attend to, so I bid you all goodbye."

The Minister appeared to be bouncing as happily as a Creevey as he led Mr Fudge to the Floo.

"Call me a cynic," said Professor Flitwick, "But I strongly suspect that some money is also in Scrimgeour No. 1 Account at Gringotts."

"Only a couple of grand, Sir," said Danny, "Just for expenses: you can't bribe a Minister."

—CHAPTER ELEVEN — _Good and Evil_

There were five gasps of astonishment and five opening shouts, but true to form, the loudest were from Colin and Dennis, as with a _DANNEE!_ they jumped up to hug their brother.

When the tumult had died down, Professor McGonagall took charge:

"Jorrocks, a _wonderful_ Disillusionment! Now perhaps you could tell us what's going on."

"Not a lot, Miss. I came to check with my own eyes that Colin was Okay after being mistaken for someone else; and also, to ask you to induct the first three Portuguese boys, who wish to stay for a few days to report conditions back to their education authority."

"I can do that immediately, Jorrocks."

"These are the names, Miss."

Danny jotted on a piece of parchment, and handed over:

_Brian William Hudson 26/11/1983_

_Boris Yurevich Tishchenko 26/11/1983_

_Pavel Yurevich Tishchenko 26/11/1983_

There was possibly a twinkle in Professor McGonagall's eye as she handed the parchment over to Professor Flitwick, saying: "Seems straightforward. You'd better learn the names, Filius, Severus."

"Yes, quite straightforward, Minerva," said Professor Flitwick passing it on to Snape.

They all waited for the explosion.

"Jorrocks!" shouted Snape, "What nonsense is this?"

"Sir?"

"Portuguese! And one of them from my own house! Expelled!"

"You must be thinking of his twin, also called Brian, Severus," said Professor McGonagall, "Not the one who let you hold the Wand of Osiris. And the other two are presumably also emigrants to Portugal. Can I check pronunciation, Daniel?"

She read out the names.

"Perfect, Miss, except Boris is more of a Bahris."

Professor McGonagall went over to a big rock on a side-table, tapped it with her wand, muttered a spell, recited the three names and muttered another spell.

"That's them in, Jorrocks," she said, "I expect the Sorting Hat is twitching away already."

Danny applied some Floo Powder and called: "Jorrocks UK HQ . . . All clear, Gully."

They waited a nerve-racking thirty seconds before Brian, with the twins clinging to him, tumbled onto the hearth, together with three bulging bags.

Brian stiffened very slightly when he saw Snape, but walked calmly over to Danny.

The twins were headed Dannywards too, but stopped and stared at the Creeveys.

They walked up to them and shook hands.

"Hello Uncle Colin. My name is Boris."

"Hello Uncle Dennis. My name is Pavel."

"Hello Uncle Colin. My name is Pavel."

"Hello Uncle Dennis. My name is Boris."

It was a historic moment—or an historic moment, as some Muggle celebrities would have it—Danny's family were meeting his brothers.

Danny was very happy.

"Where are you sleeping, boys?" he asked.

"Mine," said Dennis.

"Please Miss," said Danny, "Could we take over Dennis's dormitory?"

"Yes, Jorrocks. Meals will be at the normal times. How will you occupy yourselves? Would you like me to set some homework?"

There was a definite twinkle in her eye.

"Not at the moment, thank you, Miss."

"Then we can all adjourn."

"Shall I minute that, Miss?"

X

The six young wizards convened in Gryffindor common room.

"Top priority topic is Colin's adventure in Stratford," said Danny, "No, not quite top: [Russian] twins, why not snuggle up to your uncles?"

The twins delightedly took up the suggestion, and listened to the conversation (little of which they understood) wide-eyed and with an avuncular arm around them.

When he had told Danny the full story, Colin said: "What is it with these stones, Danny?"

"It's an old prophecy, Col. And there's a nasty wizard called Special K who's interested as well. It was he who probably attacked you yesterday. It was probably him on the bus with Rappaport."

"Well, the prophecy aint working. And I wonder who's going to ask me next. First you, then Robert, then Special K!"

"Robert? What's Robert got to do with it?"

Colin told Danny about Robert's strange phone call.

"Didn't you get my owl?"

"No. When did you send it?"

"Two days ago."

"By Owl-Relay, I'll bet."

"Yes."

"You might as well have carried it there yourself! Dad was thinking of getting them to privatise the service and taking it over.

"This phone call: did it come out of the blue?"

"Well, we'd seen Robert that day. We went pony-trekking with him. That was the bus ride I told you of where we saw Rappaport."

"Now I get it," said Danny, "Three of you on the bus, and he knew there were three Creevey brothers."

"So he thought Robert was me!" bounced Colin, "And he Confunded him."

"And a pretty poor Confundus it was. These Dark Wizards can never understand Muggles. Special K probably never even noticed that Robert was a Muggle. Remember the rhyme?"

The three brothers recited:

_When Confunding the brain_

_Don't make it strain_

_Go with the grain_

_Reason endorses_

_The right use of force is_

_Horses for courses_

They went up to Dennis's dormitory to unpack.

The twins were enchanted by the circular room, with its five four-posters, ancient decoration and picturesque views of the Hogwarts demesne.

They examined Colin's books, laughingly picking out the English words they could read.

They played with Dennis's farm animals and equipment, speculating on the purposes of the tractor and its appendages—being urban wizards, this was their first exposure to the world of rural Muggles.

The connection with the world of Nature suggested that it would be a good idea to sample the real thing.

They went outside and looked at the gardens.

"They're really identical, like the Weasleys," said Colin.

"Except, Pavel has a slight limp," tittered Dennis, "Though I don't think it's his leg . . . have you been behaving in an over-gentlemanly way, Dan?"

"Yes," said Danny, "Once. Last night. It was my first time with Pavel, and tonight it would have been with Boris."

"What d'you mean _would_?" said Colin, "We're not going to rain on Boris's party."

"I know Col, it's not that: it's part of the Togetherness Project and it should be done at Yorosk.

The twins had heard their names and picked up the context.

Pavel walked around them, clutching his bum and screwing up his face, as though in agony.

They all laughed, Boris so hysterically that he had to fall down and roll on his back.

They approached the Herbology area.

"Have you met Mr Fay yet?" asked Danny.

"Yes, we met him last night," said Colin, "It's exciting, isn't it? He's _your_ Damian, or rather _his_ Damian."

"He _was_ my Damian a couple of weeks ago."

"So you've met him!"

"Yeah. He'll do our hero proud—sexually and spiritually."

"And keep him away from Seamus," laughed Dennis.

"Yes, Seamus is an arse-slut!" said Dennis.

Damian was working in a greenhouse, but came outside when he saw the boys.

"Hello Colin. Hello Dennis," he said.

Danny was pleased at the wariness: Damian didn't know whether he was supposed to have met Danny or not.

"It's alright, Damian, I told Colin and Dennis about you when I first saw you, all those months ago" said Danny.

"I'm glad you didn't say _met_!" said Damian.

"The other three are my family and they're completely safe."

Introductions were made, and Damian gave them a guided tour.

Damian was so obviously committed to his work that all they boys enjoyed their visit.

It was apparent that Damian had other interests too.

The twins commented sometimes:

[Russian] "He's got a bump."

[Russian] "His bump gets bigger when he looks at papa."

[Russian] "Manners, boys," said Danny, "You must talk English."

"Hill."

"Big hill."

"River."

"Big River."

"Papa's mouth."

"Big Papa's mouth."

There was a lot of giggling—some of it from Damian.

Danny didn't know how sensitive Damian was, so he sent the other five back to the castle.

"I'll see you in the Great Hall," he said, "While Damian and I have herbological discussions."

"A pre-prandial cocktail please," he said when the others had left.

Damian sat on the office desk, Danny on a chair.

Danny gave Damian a slow sucking.

He was rewarded with gushes of semen, as though Damian had been saving himself up for Danny.

They walked to the Great Hall, and had to separate as a table had been set up.

The twins, used to direct service by house-elves, were fascinated by the dishes that appeared through the table.

Danny had the horn more often than not, and he was sure that the other five were similarly situated.

But, unusually for teenage boys, there was no sense of urgency: they all knew that, sometime that day, clothes would be discarded and young bodies merge in rapturous exhilaration.

Besides, putting things off gave them a pleasant time for anticipation.

So instead of a post-prandial siesta, they went outside again, and lazed under the big beech tree, with the twins, puppy-like, occasionally racing away to the far corners of the grounds before returning to flop down on top of their extended family and rest for a few moments.

The Creeveys brought Danny and Brian up-to-date on the exciting happenings at Hogwarts.

"Tell us about your stones, Dan," said Colin, causing inevitable titters.

Danny gave them the full story.

"So you and Den and me and Alexander are meant to have a stone each," said Colin, "And when you went to visit Alexander, it was to ask him about his stone."

"Yes, and he gave it to me the next morning."

"_Gave_ it to you?"

"Yes, look."

He reached inside his collar and took out a small velvet bag that was hanging round his neck.

He took out the little black stone.

"It's a pebble," said Dennis.

"It's not a stone," said Colin.

"It's a pebble," said Dennis.

"Just like our three," said Colin.

"_Your three!_"

"Yes," said Colin, "Oh! That means there are four!"

"Where are they, Col?"

"Upstairs. In the dorm."

They pelted back to the castle, up the Great Staircase, through Gryffindor common room, and up to the dormitory.

There, on the window ledge, in Dennis's farmyard lay the three stones.

Danny looked at them in his hand.

"Tell me about them, Col," he said.

Colin gave him the full history.

"It's just as in the prophecy," said Danny, "Dennis found his stone in water; Colin in the earth; Alexander, thanks to an owl, in the air; and me, thanks to Damian, in fire."

His first impulse was to set up an attack on Ammit that evening, but he realised that planning would be required; in any case, there was no immediate hurry: without the stones, Special K could do nothing; and the stones were currently in one of the safest places in the world.

All that was needed now was a setting in motion.

"Wait here, darlings," he said, and ran to Professor McGonagall's office.

"May I use your Floo please, Miss?"

"Certainly, Jorrocks."

He put his head inside the fireplace, and asked for Gully, who appeared shortly, seated by the fire in the Inner Conference Room.

"I've got the four things, Gully."

"Most excellent wizard!"

"It was obviously Fate."

"Fate, which foresaw the coming of a most excellent wizard. What's the next move?"

"Please could you ask Professor de Castro to meet us where you are now at ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

"Will do. Is that all? I'm sure you have important business to attend to."

Gully knew the exact nature of Danny's important business, accompanied as Danny was by six boys.

"Doing it now. See yer, Gully."

He got up.

"Thank you, Miss."

"So you're leaving tomorrow, Jorrocks. Are you returning?"

"Probably straight away, Miss."

"Very good. Do you need any support?"

"Not yet, Miss."

"Very good, Jorrocks."

"See yer, Miss."

X

Back in the dormitory, Danny shouted: "We're here until at least tomorrow morning. What shall we do?"

"Stupid question," said Brian, taking his clothes off, and the others doing likewise.

"Clothes off! Clothes off!" said the twins: this was one of the first English phrases that they had learnt.

"Restrictions?" asked Brian.

"None," said Danny, and almost before he had pronounced the word, Brian had fallen onto a bed and pulled Danny on top of him.

"Need it bad. Love you," said Brian, as Danny eased his way inside, with extreme patience and tenderness.

As Danny pushed forward a little more, he felt an unusual tang of delight from Boris: his son had drawn Colin to a bed, and had been bowled over by the beauty of the boy he was kissing.

All of the Yorosk boys were beautiful, but none of them would have won a conventional beauty-contest.

In fact the average Muggle, or straight wizard or witch would, quite probably, have described some of them as _ugly_.

And, to Boris, the revelation of conventional beauty was something new: not important, but a definite plus.

The four of them smiled simultaneously as the thought _Infinity Plus One Equals Infinity_ occurred to them.

Pavel was talking with Dennis.

He pointed at his bum, saying: "Bum hole bad."

"I know; it's a nice pain, isn't it?" said Dennis, then, seeing Pavel's blank look, added: "Nice. Nice."

"Yes, nice. Denise kiss good."

"Kiss it better? Yes Horror show!"

"Da! Khorosho!" said Pavel, as Dennis turned him face-down and took a gentle sniff at the wounded hole.

As Danny began to crash into Brian, he could feel Colin at his side.

They had always shared a weak psychic bond, but now Danny could sense Colin's pleasure at _his_ pleasure; and sense the joy of the snog from both Colin and Boris.

He was coming.

He pumped his juices into Brian, and felt Colin's fierce joy for the moment and joy for the certainty that soon he too would be pumping into Brian.

Danny withdrew immediately, to be replaced by Colin, who despite his nirvanic state, remembered that his willy was bigger than Danny's and entered Brian with extreme care.

As Boris wrapped his lips around Danny's penis, Danny looked over to where Dennis had just mounted Pavel, and was going at him hard.

The Creeveys climaxed at roughly the same time, though Danny could detect little except the psychic signals of fruition from Colin and the aural equivalent from Denis.

There was a moment of rest.

Then they gathered on Dennis's bed for a six-way hug.

"Wow!" said Colin

X

It was an early night for the Yorosk contingent.

They'd gone short of sleep the previous night and were whacked long before nine o'clock, English time.

In the morning, though they were as sprightly as the Creeveys.

Love and bodily fluids were exchanged before breakfast.

At ten o'clock, Danny found Professor de Castro and Gully waiting for him in London.

He tipped the stones onto the table, saying: "Well, here they are. What are we going to do about them?"

The two old wizards snapped up the stones and examined them individually and collectively.

"Pah!" said Gully, lowering his wand, "Not a thing! You Prof?"

"Nothing at all," said the Professor.

"I could get nothing either," said Danny, "But I haven't tried it with the four or fifteen."

"I think you should have the stones with you when you visit Ammit," said the Professor.

"Should I show them to her, like the man in the picture?"

"Not necessarily. The men are also showing her the four bas. I think the bas and the stones are really for the viewer's benefit.

"Yes, telling the viewer that each man holds all four men's souls; and the leader holds the four stones.

"Should we be visible or not?"

"I don't think it would make any difference, but let's stay invisible anyway.

"Shall we take Ammit tonight, sir?"

"The moon is three quarters and waxing. What's the weather forecast, Gully?"

"Scattered showers, sunny intervals—moony intervals, I should say—wind variable over high ground."

"Then Daniel, as we've got time, I think the three of us should make a reconnaissance tonight."

They discussed the details, and Danny Floo'd back to Hogwarts.

After a day full of semen and slapstick Danny went to bed at eight and got up at a quarter to midnight.

He went into Professor McGonagall's office. She had given him her password, but he used his Unlocking Charm just for fun.

He Floo'd to Glastonbury and met the other two.

They Disillusioned and Apparated piecemeal the five miles, or so, to Wookey.

They found the place depressing, with all sorts of Muggle kitsch and a dour atmosphere of Dementors.

It did not take them long to find Ammit's lair: there was a vertical cliff fronting a meadow grazed by Bicorns, which were currently lying asleep.

The whole area was bound under a tight spell making it invisible to Muggles.

"Why not invisible to wizards too?" asked Danny.

"Unlike the basic anti-Muggle Charm," said the Professor, "the charms for anti-wizardkind Invisibility and Unknowability need constant refreshing, which takes more than dead souls and moonshine.

"But, if anyone _does_ detect a magical area, the obvious explanation is a Bicorn farm—and Bicorns, being of the bovine ilk, are unaffected by Dementors."

They waited for a couple of hours, passing the time by testing each other on wizard lore.

Then there was some movement.

A rocky slab in the cliff face moved aside revealing a cave.

"It's the same shape as in the picture," whispered Danny.

"Yes," said the Professor, "And there's no need to whisper: we are each covered by three Disillusionments."

"I know," shouted Danny, "but it's hard to stop doing it!"

As they watched, the ugly, hooded shapes of Dementors emerged and hovered around the entrance to the cave.

Something else was coming out of the cave.

Danny was thrilled to see the crocodile snout of the ancient creature.

The thrill chased away the depressed feeling had been seeping into him.

Ammit waddled out soundlessly.

Considering her front legs were leonine and her rear ones hippopotamic, she waddled surprisingly neatly.

She stood, motionless, soaking up the moon's rays.

They watched for half an hour and decided that their reconnaissance was done.

"A good night's work!" said Professor de Castro.

X

Twenty-four hours later, it was a party of six that deployed on the field at Wookey.

After some discussion, they had decided that the torso positions in the picture were more significant than those of the heads and legs.

So the four boys deployed side-to-side rather than head-to-tail.

Gully and the Professor were positioned to the wide right and left of the boys.

The Bicorns had been charmed to coma so as to avoid complications.

Danny took the right of the attacking force and Brian the left, with the twins between.

There were few clouds, and the slab shifted as expected.

When the Dementors started emerging, Danny felt a shadow of panic from the other boys, but reassured them with a wave of Love that the Dementors could not see, or feel, or hurt them.

They were amazed at the sight of Ammit as she emerged into the moonlight.

It was nearly the moment.

The rear-guard Dementor party was building up.

Now, there was Ammit, surrounded by her creatures.

Let the destruction begin.

He pointed his wand, thought of his family, thought of the Creeveys, thought of his boys sleeping in Yorosk.

He concentrated his power along his wand and shouted: _Expecto Patronum Exscinditque!_

His monkey, livelier than it had ever been, appeared, as silvery as the moonlight.

It ran towards the Dementors standing in front of Ammit and smacked the first one he met with something held in its hand . . . was it a banana?

The Dementor gave the ghost of a death-rattle and faded to nothingness.

There was more wailing now from the other Dementors: a dreadful noise like the tortured ghosts of a thousand drowned sailors.

The monkey moved to strike another Dementor to the left . . . then to the right . . . it was the most hyperactive Patronus that Danny had ever seen.

The Dementors to the rear were gliding backwards into the cave.

Soon all the Dementors had either been destroyed or had disappeared.

Ammit took a pace backwards.

"Destroy her!" he called but his Patronus stood motionless.

He felt a powerful will calling on them to depart.

He felt no compulsion to obey, but the will seemed to be immobilising his Patronus.

He called for a further effort from his team.

He could sense Brian wanting the creature destroyed because of his love for Danny.

He could sense the twins working together, as they did for Naughty Hedgehog.

But nothing.

He thought of the stones, loose in his pocket and clutched them in his hand.

He waved them at Ammit, but she just took another step back.

And suddenly there came a sound as of a rushing mighty wind.

At the same time an explosion of childish glee from his sons.

Two small, silvery creatures raced across from the boys and jumped onto Ammit, biting her throat.

Danny's monkey jumped at her and struck with both hands.

With a low groan, like the last of the castrati, Ammit vanished.

Exhausted, the boys sat down.

"Splendid work, boys!" said Professor de Castro.

"After five thousand years!" said Gully.

"Has she gone?" asked Danny.

"Yes, forever," said the Professor.

"And the Dementors trapped in the cave: How do we smoke them out?"

"They're not trapped, Daniel. There's a chimney. I saw them flying out and away towards the Bristol Channel, thirty miles away."

"And another forty miles to the Black Mountains of Wales, no doubt," said Gully.

"Then we still have them to deal with," said Danny.

"With a limited number," said the Professor, "Without Ammit, they cannot reproduce."

"And my darling twins produced Patroni!" said Danny, and kissed Boris and Pavel.

"A magnificent achievement, twins!" said the Professor, "And do you know what your creatures were?"

The twins shook their heads.

"They were sables, trapped by your ancestors for thousands of years."

"What about those bloody, bloody stones!" said Danny, "You warned me Gully: even if a prophecy is true it might be completely trivial. And this was trivial in Spades."

"You must be tired, Daniel or you would think differently," said the Professor, "In the first place, the search for the stones led us to Ammit; secondly, it led you back to Hogwarts, which surely has a bearing on the future of Harry Potter; thirdly, it led to the removal from the scene of Rappaport; and fourthly, the twins used the power of the stones to generate Patroni."

"Really?"

"Really. Their sables manifested as soon as you took them out of your pocket. Doubtless, their belief in the power of the stones enabled them, in some innate way, to _use_ that power.

"Oh yes, yes, yes! These stones are very powerful, and you must guard them carefully, Daniel."

"I'll talk to you about that later, Professor," said Danny, "But now, I'm so tired."

"Of course, Daniel. I anticipated this and took the precaution of reserving two family rooms at the Muggle hotel you see over there. I expect the night porter awaits our arrival with excitement. Are you coming with us Gully?"

"No, I'm for Rus; I want to keep my eye on Kryuchkov."

The boys had just enough consciousness left to notice that the hotel was Witch-Themed, but not enough to undress.

X

On Danny's first evening back, the boys assembled in the common room.

"Do we still have memory shortfalls, Yuri?" he asked.

"Yes, Danny, we've just done regular Pairs Nights."

"Then let's do it now! Here with everyone watching and feeling it. I declare Extraordinary Seeding Night!"

There were cheers.

Danny thought for a moment then said: "Let's start with Nick: please do Semyon."

Semyon was a tiny scrap of a boy, with a tiny bumhole.

It might have been thought that the tall Nick—six years older than Semyon—might do serious damage to the boy.

But his willy was very thin. It was also not very long, which didn't stop Danny warning him: "Don't go all the way in, Nick."

Nick wanted to do spoons, but Semyon wanted to be done leaning over a sofa.

Yuri magically adjusted the height of the sofa, and Nick pressed the tip against the hole.

The boys all loved Nick's bright red hair.

Like his friend, Yuri, Nick had decided to let his hair grow, and the ripple of flame as he bent lower over Semyon drew approving murmurs.

Nick slipped in quite easily and began a gentle shag, which after a time became more excited.

"Go all the way in, Kolya!" said Semyon.

Nick, perhaps, pushed in a tenth of an inch further.

"Go all the way in, Kolya!" said Semyon again, and Nick obeyed.

"Go harder! Harder!" shouted Semyon, and Nick went harder, squirting into Semyon with a shout of joy which they heard and felt.

They also felt Semyon's joy that he had been shagged properly by a big boy and that his bum had been Christened into true gayness.

"Now, Sergei, please do Veniamin," said Danny.

Sergei's penis was shorter then Nick's, but a little fatter—ideal, Danny felt, for the eleven-year-old.

Veniamin opted to be done on his back, and lay on the sofa with his little bum in the air.

Sergei made an easy entry, and shagged Veniamin at a slowish speed, feeling proud to be consecrating the boy to manhood.

Veniamin too was feeling pride and, after an initial delight at getting his bumhole stretched, a gentler pleasure from Sergei's rubbing.

But the pleasure did not remain gentle for long: it strengthened . . . and strengthened . . . and strengthened until Veniamin was having a full-scale, mind-blowing orgasm.

They had all experienced Veniamin's orgasms before; also Konstantin's fiercer orgasms; but this was something else: scream after scream of pleasure went on, and on, and on.

Some of the boys screamed too.

Then it died away, and the boys reviewed things.

It might not have been the fiercest orgasm that they'd met, but it was by far the longest.

They discussed matters.

Sergei, who had, somewhere within the screams, pumped his seed into Veniamin, said if he could have that everyday, he wouldn't want _anything_ else from life.

Maybe that was how Caerwen Morgan felt, thought Danny.

Caerwen was a boy of the same age as Veniamin, who had quickly discovered after arriving at Hogwarts that his bum couldn't get enough cock. He had been lucky enough to find a boy—also eleven—whose sturdy erection could be guaranteed to arrive on demand and stay as long as it was wanted.

"Fima," said Danny, "You have been saving your bumhole for me, and it would be churlish to refuse its hospitality. Does everyone agree?"

There were loud cheers.

"And if Boris doesn't mind being postponed until tomorrow."

"Boris doesn't mind," said Pavel and Boris.

Yefim positioned himself, Yuri adjusted the sofa and Danny raised Yefim's legs over his shoulders.

Vanya I want you to stand behind me. When you see that Fima and me are well away, I want to ram your way inside me and shag me hard.

With a whoop of joy, Ivan rose to his feet and moistened his willy which had grown a full inch by the time he had taken station at Danny's rear.

Danny fingered Yefim's hole for a long time, ignoring the feeling from Yefim: _Push it in! Push it in! I want you Danny!_

He felt the hole relax as though it were caressing his fingers, and pushed his glans a little way inside.

He could feel Yefim's pain, and paused.

He could have laughed out loud at Yefim's gritty determination.

He was feeling: _Push it in! OW! I won't yell!_

But Danny didn't need yells to tell when Yefim was suffering.

Then, quite suddenly the hole seemed to be drawing him in, and Yefim was telling him: _Push it in! NOW! Shag me hard!_

And Danny started a hard shag.

_Bloody hell! This feels good!_ he thought.

Yefim and Danny were perfectly proportioned for snogging during intercourse.

Their tongues thrashed against each other; they took a breather; and the tongues touched again.

At this moment, Danny felt a sharp pain in his bumhole.

Ivan had felt it too, and immediately withdrew.

"Useless! Feeble! I want the pain! Stick it in now!" Danny shouted.

Ivan stuck it in.

The pain was even sharper.

"All the way in!"

Ivan stuck it all the way in.

"Now shag me hard!"

"And shag _me_ hard," shouted Yefim.

So the three lads clobbered into each other in frenzied effort, worries about causing pain long vanished.

And Yefim received longed-for seed from the Great Danny.

And Ivan learnt at last what it feels like to have a rectum wrapped around his mickey.

And when the boys separated, their lovers joined them in a fifteen-boy cuddle.

Some boys were falling asleep when Danny called the meeting to order.

"Normal Pairs Night now," he said, "Novorossisk in a week. Then it'll be no holes barred!"

—CHAPTER TWELVE — _Life at Novorossisk_

Novorossisk was the site of a small wizard community from ancient times.

After the Russians took over the Muggle areas in 1829, the magical community created a large protected area, and this developed alongside the Muggle port.

Mr Jorrocks used both the wizarding and Muggle ports extensively and ended up owning most of both.

Then he had the bright idea of creating a leisure industry.

He had picked the right time and place: families flocked to enjoy the wonderful beaches, which had been imported from the South Seas; Young sportspeople flocked to the excellent marine, land and air facilities; randy young witches and wizards flocked for holiday flings: Maria from Lithuania opened her legs to Abdul from Egypt; Anna from Switzerland wrapped her lips round Kapil from India.

And when Mr Jorrocks learned that his only child was gay, he created a special gay resort—even more successful— Corstorphine Pembroke, Mr Jorrocks' English lawyer took a party of one hundred and sixty there one year.

But nowhere was the sex hotter than among the fifteen Yorosk boys and the two eldest Creeveys.

The days spent in energetic games, interspersed with periods of sensuous lounging under the sun, occasionally gazing at the unseeing Muggle ships; the healthy and plentiful food; the knowledge of loving and being loved; the eager solicitations of other gay boys and men.

All these combined to pack the boys' loins with juices.

And, by the evening, the restrictions of the Togetherness Project having been abandoned, these juices were spilled out into mouths and bottoms, or splashed over heaving bodies.

By common consent, they kept sexually to their own: this first year, they would be all to each other, with Danny's brothers as welcome new additions to the Group.

Danny, his family, and the Creeveys (all eight of them) lodged at the Jorrocks mansion.

The other eleven were in a spectacular new barracks.

With knowledge of Danny's keenness and efficiency, Mr Jorrocks had been mindful of future needs. He had caused to be built a fabulous two-storeyed, veranda'd, psychedelically-painted villa, packed with every conceivable magical convenience.

The bedroom accommodation could be configured into eighty spacious cells, or two enormous dormitories, or any combination between.

Partner-wise the boys tended to stick to their own favoured sub-groups, but sometimes they had orgies, or organised sexual games; and sometimes there were completely casual incidents—_You haven't bummed me for days. What about it?_

No-one ever said no: their Togetherness was such that it would be like saying no to oneself.

During the day some of the boys joined in Quidditch games with pick-up teams. Brian was the star, and Danny sometimes watched him.

Most of the time, though, Danny was on the water, doing Muggle things like swimming, diving, surfing, wind-surfing and yachting; there were wizardy things to do as well, like Water-Quidditch, Water-Chins and Underwater Duelling; and then there were the Creevey girls to be played with.

Every night, after dinner they all converged on a private, sandy cove by the Jorrocks mansion. The adults had agreed that this was to be reserved for the boys only.

Danny had magically protected the Cove from outside eyes, so they could and would have gone nude, but the evenings were too chilly.

They sat in a tight circle and talked about the things that they had done during the day.

After Geoffrey had been escorted to bed, the remaining seventeen boys formed a tighter circle; arms were placed around shoulders; spare hands touched bodies to make conversational points.

And the conversation swung more and more towards Sex.

Then the night's set-up was discussed with much tittering, and at eleven o'clock, or so, they went to their bedrooms.

One set-up never changed: a sweet romance had blossomed between the big, ever-smiling Ivan and the short, simple, bony-faced Sergei.

Each night they were together, sometimes with one or two companions, but always close.

Togetherness had revealed that this unlikely couple were soul-mates, with some private dimensions to their psychic hyperspace.

On a more earthy level, Sergei was the only boy apart from Danny who had taken Ivan's penis into his bum.

They thought life was perfect.

Everybody thought life was perfect.

Every day was perfect.

The holiday was only for a fortnight and sometimes the boys wished it would last forever . . . but then, they loved Yorosk too. . . .

X

One evening, just after supper, all the boys went to their little cove and relaxed, cheerfully chatting to each other.

Danny was sitting with Brian and the Kalinov brothers talking about the friendly shoal of sea-serpents that they had met earlier.

Suddenly he tensed and called the Group.

Something had happened.

_Attack! Attack!_

They were being attacked. Already the defence was down and spells were getting through.

Danny looked up and saw, arrayed on the gentle slopes that surrounded the cove, what looked like hundreds of young wizards—a swift reassessment lowered the figure to about eighty.

"Butyrka!" shouted Pyotr.

Danny's gang was surrounded, with the sea at their back, and a semicircle of young wizards, wands outstretched, firing spells at them.

But already their Togetherness was gaining power.

Spells were fizzling out and falling short of their target.

There came to the boys a huge wave of Love, and a fierce desire to remove whatever threatened it.

The Butyrka boys were still firing off spells, but now some of the spells were being reflected.

One of the attacking wizards fell; then another.

Overjoyed at their success, the Group knew their invincibility, and their strength grew.

Their attackers collapsed until there were only five remaining.

Amazingly, these five were standing amidst their fallen comrades, their wands lowered, their faces scared.

It looked as though the Yorosk boys had won.

Danny was pondering how to clean up the mess, when a voice came:

_Jorrocks!_

He turned and a surge of contempt, not unmixed with fear, affected the group.

_Special K!_ murmured some boys aloud.

Kryuchkov was standing, his wand raised, and _with Yuri in his arms_.

Damn!

Yuri had been for a poo and Kryuchkov must have caught him on the way back.

Danny had no doubt that Yuri was at deadly risk. Kryuchkov would kill him without a second thought if Danny attacked.

But Kryuchkov was doubtlessly utterly defended against Danny's attacks.

And Danny could feel the strength of the group. He knew that they were impregnable—even against Kryuchkov, who for all his weaknesses of intellect, was a mighty wizard.

Stalemate, then.

"Jorrocks," shouted Kryuchkov, "I want the stones."

"And I _have_ the stones."

"Give me the stones, or you know what will happen."

"Release the boy, then."

"Where are the stones?"

"Around my neck."

"Will you swap them for the boy's life?"

"Yes, but I don't trust you."

"You should trust me. You must know that I am not like your English Dark Lord: I do not kill for pleasure."

Danny took the bag from around his neck.

"I will exchange the stones for the life of the boy," he said.

"Show me the stones."

Danny tipped out the stones onto his palm.

"Drop your wand to the ground."

Danny obeyed.

Keeping his wand trained on Danny, Kryuchkov lowered the boy to the ground.

Danny felt a surge of confidence: Scumbag would have thrown Yuri down.

Kryuchkov rose and called: "Throw the stones outside your Protection."

Danny threw the stones, which landed near Kryuchkov.

_Accio Stones!_

The four stones flew into Kryuchkov's hand.

A triumphant expression appeared on his face.

"Good. Go in peace Jorrocks. One day you will be my right hand—_Arrrgh!_"

_Avada Kedavra!_ echoed around the cove.

A green light appeared over Kryuchkov's heart, momentarily spread round his body, then vanished.

He flopped to the ground, dead as the four stones he clutched in his hand.

Danny's only thought was for Yuri.

He picked up his wand and ran to him.

_R__ennervate!_

Thank God!

Yuri stirred, opened his eyes and said: "That was a helluva shit!"

Gully ran up.

He prised the stones from the dead wizard's grasp and gave them to Danny.

"Didn't need to kill him, I suppose," he said, "But I had to make sure he never got hold of these."

"They're fakes," said Danny.

Gully roared with laughter, not in the least discountenanced by having just killed a man.

"Ha-ha! The king brother with much wisdom! Perhaps Kryuchkov'll get credit in the afterworld," he said, "He died for a lost cause."

"What are we going to do?" asked Danny.

"We've got at least five minutes before the Wizard Militia gets here," said Gully, "I'll take the hit. Kryuchkov was coming after me. I fled here to ask if Mr Jorrocks could get me to South America. Kryuchkov traced me with his gang of boy soldiers, and like the coward I am, I took refuge behind Mr Jorrocks' son's holiday party. I had to kill him. It was self-defence."

"Will they believe that?" asked Danny.

"Probably not: you don't need to kill to defend yourself. But I'm old man, so who cares?"

"I care," said Danny, "We'll get a good lawyer and he'll get you off—or at least get it reduced to _Careless Use of a Wand_."

"Thanks for that, Master Daniel."

"What about all these wizard-boys?"

"Let the Militia sort them out. You and—Yuri is it?—join the others. Wands away and when the Militia comes, wailing in terror. They won't even bother interviewing you."

Danny and Yuri turned to join their friends.

"Oi! Where you going?" shouted Gully.

"Eh?"

"Take your five boys with you."

"_My_ five boys?"

"Yes. I promised to bring you the gay boys from Butyrka Set A. Well there they are."

"Good Lord!"

Danny collected the five boys, and concealed them in the middle of their eighteen new friends.

He supposed that the Love between the Yorosk boys had emanated a Protection for the newly-arrived Butyrka gay boys.

The Militia arrived in dribs and drabs, accompanied by loud _Crack!_s.

Then, with no more than a whoosh, ten men from the Special Unit arrived.

All this time Gully had been standing with his hands up and his wand at his feet.

The Colonel of the Specials talked long and hard to Gully.

Then he came over and called: "Which of you is called Daniel Jorrocks?"

"I am, Sir," said Danny, coming forward tremblingly, and showing his tear-stained face.

"Are these boys your holiday party?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"And that man used you as a Human Shield?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Well it's all over now, Mr Jorrocks; put it all behind you. There are bad men in the world but you were just unlucky that you came across two of them today.

"I suggest you go home—Is that the Jorrocks mansion? I thought it might be—and enjoy the rest of your holiday."

"Thank you, Sir."

Twenty-three boys walked away.

"Coo, Danny," said Geoffrey, "You didn't half cry well!"

X

The holiday was coming to an end.

The four brothers were sitting on an ornamental bench set amid the green overlooking the little cove.

They had been playing games with the other nineteen boys, but had adjourned for some Quality Family Time.

The other nineteen were a little tired now.

They had built a bonfire and were sitting round it.

Danny had been delighted that, without prompting from him, each of the five new boys had been given a mentor.

Each of the mentors now had a protective arm around his charge. The tiniest little boy was pressing tightly against his mentor and had an arm around his waist.

It was a sweet and heart-warming sight.

"Colin?" said Geoffrey.

"Yes, darling?"

"Some of the Russian boys have red marks like yours."

"Yeah, they get Mosquitoes in Russia too."

Danny choked the laugh back.

The nineteen boys started to sing:

_We're all going on a summer holiday_

_Lots of wanking for a week or two_

_Gropes and fumbles on our summer holiday_

_Lots of kisses for me and you_

_For a week or two_

_We're going where the willy spurts brightly_

_We're going where the bumhole is brown_

_We've semen in our bollocks_

_So get your knickers down_

_Every gayboy has a summer holiday_

_Screwing things he's always wanted to_

_Snogging willies on our summer holiday_

_Sweat and buttocks and a smell of poo_

_For me and you_

_We're going where the willy spurts brightly_

_We're going where the bumhole is brown_

_We've semen in our bollocks_

_So get your knickers down_

"Colin?" said Geoffrey.

"Yeah?" said Colin.

Danny guessed that Colin had decided: this was the moment for Geoff to learn the facts of gay life.

"That song . . . it sounds gay."

"Yeah."

"Are these boys gay?"

"Yeah."

"What, all of them?"

"Yeah."

"Danny lives with them."

"Yeah."

"Are you gay, Danny?"

"Yeah, he is, Geoff," said Colin, "I'm gay too."

"Coo! Are you gay, Dennis?"

"No, Dennis is straight," said Colin.

"It didn't stop me giving Col those red marks," said Dennis.

"I _knew_ it wasn't mosquitoes!" shouted Geoff.

Then it sank in, and he shouted: "Dennis! _You sucked Colin on the bum!_"

"Yeah."

"That's dirty!"

"No it's not; it's very, very, very, very, very nice," said Dennis.

"Why?"

"It's part of the package when me and Col are having sex together."

"_You have sex together!_"

"Yeah; and with Danny. "We've had red-hot sex hundreds of times."

"What, with bumming?

"Yeah."

"And sucking willies?"

"Yeah."

"And wet kissing?"

"Yeah."

Geoff had a quivering hand inside his trousers.

"What's wet kissing like?"

"Geoff, darling," said Colin, "Why not find out by sitting on Danny's knee?"

So on the magical shore of the Black Sea at night, Geoffrey Creevey had his first lesson in another sort of magic.

—CHAPTER THIRTEEN— _A Wonderfully Enhanced Togetherness_

The beautiful town of Odense, in the beautiful island of Funen, in the beautiful country of Denmark lay under a beautiful summer sun.

And perhaps the most beautiful sight in this beautiful town was the nervous-looking fifteen-year-old boy, dressed in a gorgeous blue robe, who sat at the front of the Main Hall of the Municipal Magical Meeting-Place.

Next to him was a boy who was not as beautiful as Adam, especially with his hair brushed and gelled and charmed into a scalp-hugging flatness,

Danny glanced behind him. The hall was packed.

The Poxons and the Watts, embracing the inevitable, had taken a liberal stance and worded the invitations to their innumerable relatives with much emphasis on _great pride_, _pleasure_ and _honour_.

The relatives had been equally enthusiastic in demonstrating that they were among the progressive element of wizardkind, and were trying to behave as though a gay wedding was just another incident in their significance-packed lives.

Danny knew that the crowd had been guided to their seats by Messrs Harris, Pucey and Rath, Adam Watts's fellow Gay Champions; also by three male relatives rather harshly referred to by Adam as _Spare pricks at the wedding_.

Somewhere in the crowd was Danny's family: Brian, Boris and Pavel; and somewhere his Creevey brothers.

Colin and Dennis had each been invited to bring a guest.

Colin's choice had been easy: Alexander Bell, his number one fan.

Dennis had dithered: his sixteen-year-old girlfriend would have been good fun socially.

Another option was Seamus: not a special friend but, when separated from Dean, a guaranteed source of blistering sex.

In the end he settled for Alexander's fellow Gryffindor first-year, Euan Abercrombie: He and Dennis had a lot in common, so the choice was dictated by Friendship—though rumour had it that Dennis's hand had refreshed parts of Euan that other boys had not reached.

Danny looked round again, and smiled at Adam's Chief Page, tall, skinny Caerwen Morgan, who was seated just behind him.

Caerwen's guest was his boyfriend, a third Gryffindor first-year—second-year now, Danny thought with a jolt—Peter Jones, who was also somewhere in the throng, no doubt daydreaming about Caerwen's bumhole.

The organist, who had been playing dithery, easy-listening music stopped.

There was a tense silence before the Registrar appeared in front of the congregation and motioned them to stand.

The organist began the Muggle wedding-march.

Danny mentally sang along:

_Here comes the bride,_

_Fair, fat and wide._

_Bearing her bastard_

_Inside her inside._

_Here comes the groom,_

_Cursing his doom,_

_Shafting a fat girl_

_From here to the tomb._

Danny did not look round, but could visualise the scene: James Poxon, clad in dazzling, virginal white, on the arm of Luna Lovegood as Best Witch; Jonathan Neil as Chief Page, walking behind with the Chief Bridesmaid, a young witch of breathtaking glamour, who was in fact Tintin Wilkes, like Caerwen, a Ravensclaw first-year.

Tintin had also been asked if he would like to bring a guest, but had let it been known that he would prefer to attend solo in the hope of filling the hole in Adrian Pucey's life left by the departure of his boyfriend, Virion, for America.

Luna was a classmate of Adam and James. She was quite content to attend without a guest.

Behind Jonny and Tintin came half a dozen little Poxon relatives, all of whom considered themselves a more suitable choice as Chief Page or Chief Bridesmaid.

The procession reached the front, and Adam, Danny, Caerwen and Tintin, with a cluster of Watts relatives, walked to the back and waited outside the hall.

The congregation resumed their seats, and a minute later the wedding-march was played again.

This time, Adam was the Bride, Danny was Best Witch, Caerwen was Chief Page, and Tintin was Chief Bridesmaid—again, to the fury of many of those present.

After all this to-do, the couple were ready for formal union.

From the opening words:

_Friends, on this happy day we are here to see these two young people commit themselves to a lifetime of mutual love, respect and nurture. Their commitment entitles them to the welcome, pastoral care and support of the magical community._

To the final:

_I take this, my friend James, to be my lifer, promising, to be unto him a loving and faithful partner, so long as we both on earth shall live._

_I take this, my friend Adam, to be my lifer, promising, to be unto him a loving and faithful partner, so long as we both on earth shall live._

_Forasmuch as Adam and James have consented together in magical wedlock, and have witnessed the same before this company and all wizardkind, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by joining of hands and imbibement of the Potion of Honour; I pronounce that they be lifers together._

many people had a lump in their throat.

Danny could hear an occasional sob from Sea Jay.

Rings were exchanged, and to the sounds of the other Muggle wedding-march, they all trooped out.

Everyone was standing around the door, while wedding photos were being taken. Colin was using his Muggle camera.

Sea Jay was quietly weeping. Jonny had an arm around him.

"Cheer up, Sea Jay," said Danny, "It's a really happy occasion."

"I know," said Sea Jay, "but it's so beautiful: young love."

Jonny swallowed hard, and said: "Alright. We're in Denmark. We're fifteen. What about it?"

Sea Jay was bemused: "Eh?"

"Bloody hell!" said Jonny, "It's not N.E.W.T.'s. level! I, Jonathan Neil, do ask thee, Christopher Harris, to marry me. Here; now; for ever."

"Do you mean it?" gasped Sea Jay.

"Don't piss about. Yes or no?"

"Yes!"

"Right! Wait there!"

He ran back into the Office and came back two minutes later.

"Yes! He'll do it!" he shouted, "Danny Best Witch to me; Adam Best Witch to Sea Jay; Colin Chief Page to Sea Jay; Dennis Chief Page to me; Tintin always the Bridesmaid. Hey, Adam! Come 'ere and organise! Danny, do us a favour please: go in and divvy up to the man."

Danny went inside and paid a few Galleons to the bemused Registrar, plus tips (masquerading as _Expenses for additional time, potions and charms_) for him and the organist, emerging to hear shouts of: _Inside! Everybody back inside!_

The bewildered members of the congregation were driven like eponymous geese back into the hall, and the ceremony repeated, the only hiccup being the need for Adam and James to temporarily surrender their wedding rings.

Then it was off to the hotel for a slightly delayed wedding breakfast,

Danny had a momentary worry that James, having waited so long for his wedding day, and taken so much trouble to have it perfect in every way, might feel that this major, unscheduled turn of events had spoiled things.

Danny need not have worried: true, James had been shedding tears throughout the ceremony, but they were tears of joy for Jonny and Sea-Jay, and joy for Adam and himself, whose day of days had been blessed by the bestowal of conjugality on two treasured friends.

In the midst of the evening's celebration, time was found to send owls to four astounded parents:

_Dear Parents,_

_We were married today._

_From your sons:_

_Christopher Harris-Neil_

_Jonathan Neil-Harris_

The wedding breakfast was a carnival of joy, as all magical weddings are.

There were speeches followed by singing and dancing, in which all the young folk joined, except for three of them seated at a table near the bar, deliriously happy in the knowledge that their seemingly insoluble triangle would later dissolve itself in floods of sweat and semen. Tintin was chatting up Adrian Pucey, who fancied some man-to-man sex with Derek Rath, who, in true nautical tradition, was dripping with lust for the ladyboy.

The happy songs and dances continued until the small hours, but most of the youngsters were in bed before midnight.

Danny shagged Brian slowly and tenderly, with the twins circling the couple, contributing mouths, fingers, bumholes and willies to the joyful, heaving flesh of their beloved parents.

Surely at this very moment, James Poxon-Watts was surrendering his cherished virginity to Adam Watts-Poxon.

Surely Sea Jay and Jonathan were slamming into each other in their usual passionate style—but with their love now strengthened by a wondrously enhanced togetherness.

Surely Alexander's tight, tight bumhole was being gently, but firmly stretched by his adored Colin.

Surely sandy-haired Peter Jones was valiantly rubbing his willy inside Caerwen and bringing the Welsh boy to what Tintin called the _screaming_ _habdabs_.

Surely Adrian and Derek, in homosexual brotherhood, were happily treating Tintin like a real lady.

And surely another virginity was being surrendered, as a careful and unboisterous Dennis pressed himself into little Euan Abercrombie; and the two little straight boys would share their own screaming habdabs, commemorated by a tiny blob of semen five inches up Euan's anal passage.

And in all the multiple universes, was there anything so beautiful as the intellectual, spiritual and physical Togetherness of these glorious boys?

The complete _Gay Harry Potter 2014 Edition_ is available at:

RTF:

.

EPUB:

.

MOBI:

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The files included are:

Gay Harry Potter-01-0-The Philosopher's Stone

Gay Harry Potter-02-0-The Chamber of Secrets

Gay Harry Potter-03-0-The Prisoner of Azkaban

Gay Harry Potter-04-0-The Goblet of Fire

Gay Harry Potter-04-1-Danny Jorrocks and the Four Missing Persons

Gay Harry Potter-04-2-Danny Jorrocks and the Week of Sex

Gay Harry Potter-05-0-The Order of the Phoenix

Gay Harry Potter-05-1-Danny Jorrocks and the Slytherin Conspiracy

Gay Harry Potter-05-2-Danny Jorrocks and the Russian Boys

Gay Harry Potter-05-3-Colin and the Slytherins

Gay Harry Potter-05-4-Dean Thomas and the Thirteen Naked Boys

Gay Harry Potter-05-5-Sex, Drugs, Rock-n-Roll-and Colin Creevey

Gay Harry Potter-05-6-Danny Jorrocks and the Stones of Power

Gay Harry Potter-06-0-The Half-Blood Prince

[Gay Harry Potter-06-1-The Commandos from Married Quarters]

Gay Harry Potter-07-0-The Deathly Hallows

[Gay Harry Potter-07-1-The Next Day: Harry's Story]

[Gay Harry Potter-07-2-The Next Day: Danny's Story]

[Gay Harry Potter-08-1-Geoffrey Creevey's First Year]

Gay Harry Potter-26-1-The Battle of Hogwarts, Nineteen Years On

[Gay Harry Potter-26-2- Nineteen Years and One Day]

[. . .] = To appear in _Gay Harry Potter 2015 Edition_


End file.
